Seven Simple Years
by HalfASlug
Summary: The story of Ron and Hermione through a series of missing moments. Who said love was simple? Runner up in Best Hermione and Best Romance in the Romione Awards!
1. Building Blocks, Foundations and a Troll

_A/N This is my first published story that I wrote ages ago but only just decided to actually upload.  
Basically this is just a collection of missing moments from Philosopher's Stone to Deathly Hallows, that are all about Ron and Hermione because I think I'm a tad obsessed. Each chapter will have 3-4 moments. I hope it isn't too confusing._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and my soul. Please don't sue me._

* * *

Building Blocks, Foundations and a Troll

_(Friends, Back through the trapdoor, LOLcat, The thing about Lockhart…)_

"Erm... Is it okay if I sit here?"

Ron tore his eyes away from the food in front of him and turned around to see who the speaker was. He glanced at her for a split second before looking back at his plate. It was a piled a little higher than usual, even by his standards, but after the evening he had had who could blame him? He couldn't explain to himself why his roast beef was so captivating at this very moment; maybe it was the guilt? Or even the unwilling gratitude? Either way he couldn't look at the girl standing behind him without feeling a twinge of discomfort.

"It's all right if it's not," added the girl, turning pink in the face. "It's just all the other tables are full and -"

"It's fine. You can sit here," Harry replied. "Can't she, Ron?"

Harry looked at Ron as he spoke, who nodded and hastily swallowed the lump of chewed potato he had in his mouth. "Yeah. 'Course."

As Hermione set her plate on the table next to his, Ron felt his ears start to burn. He was very aware that the last time they had sat like this she had ended up crying for hours in a toilet cubicle. He busied himself with his food to try and avoid being the first to break the awkward silence that was growing around the three of them. The silence was only intensified by their fellow Gryffindors, who were all crammed into the common room and talking excitedly about how a troll could've got into the school. Thankfully, the rest of the story hadn't reached them yet and the students responsible for the troll's incapacitation weren't being bothered for their version of events. Instead they were sat in a quiet corner of the common room, avoiding each other's gaze.

"It's a bit weird eating in the common room, isn't it?" said Hermione in a slightly higher voice than usual.

Ron and Harry both made noises of agreement but soon fell silent again. Ron was thankful that she had tried to start a conversation and was desperately trying to think of something to say to keep it going, but was drawing a blank. He met Harry's eyes briefly and saw he was struggling with a similar problem. With each passing second, Ron felt the atmosphere grow tenser. Normally you couldn't shut this girl up, despite him trying very hard to make it happen. Now that she finally had learnt to close her mouth, he found himself wishing she would fill the silence with _anything _that would make the uneasy feeling in his stomach stop.

"It's still good though. The food, I mean," Ron added when the other two looked at him blankly.

"Yes, it's always really good," nodded Harry in a valiant effort trying to keep the conversation flowing.

Hermione looked down at her plate thoughtfully. "I wonder who makes it."

After a few seconds she looked back at Ron and seemed terrified that he and Harry would once again fail to formulate replies and their pathetic attempt at conversation would wilt and die once more. Ron felt sorry for her as he watched her squirm in her seat. She was trying so hard to be nice them and he felt powerless to help her. If someone had told him 24 hours ago that he would be desperately trying to think of something to say to Hermione Granger to keep her talking to him, he would've probably thought they were mental.

She was annoying. She was bossy. In fact she was infuriating in every way. But here she was; sat quietly next to him, trying to make up for them saving her life. Admittedly she wouldn't have needed saving if he hadn't said she had no friends, but thinking about this did nothing to help the feeling in Ron's stomach. He had to say something.

"I wonder how they make the food so good."

He cursed himself for this flimsy sentiment, but Hermione eyes seemed to shine with gratitude at his attempt to keep the silence from eclipsing them once more. It was a few seconds before Harry spoke.

"Magic?"

Ron watched a small smile slowly creep onto his friends face and he let out a small nervous laugh and was slightly surprised to see Hermione copy him. The three of them looked at each briefly before they all erupted into laughter that lasted slightly longer than the joke truly deserved. Instantly the tension melted away.

Just as they all regained control of themselves, Harry was called across the common room by a very excited looking Fred and George. They all froze as there was no doubt in their minds as to what this could be about; the story of them taking on a mountain troll had somehow got out. Obviously in the Chinese whispers way that rumours worked, Ron and Hermione's names had been forgotten in favour of making The Boy Who Lived a hero once more.

Harry grimaced in a 'here-we-go' kind of way and started making his way over to the twins. Before he could even begin to think what his brothers would make of his involvement in the incident, Hermione turned to address him. He suddenly felt slightly nervous. Surely Hermione couldn't be about to revert to her old self and start demanding an apology or that they stop enjoying themselves and make a start on their potions essays?

"Talking of magic," she said uncertainly, "that was some very skillful Charm work back there."

Ron stared. Praise from Hermione was the last thing he had expected.

"Thanks," he grinned sheepishly. He arranged his features into a serious expression and leaned forward in his chair. "The trick is to make the 'gar' nice and long."

For a moment she just looked at his determinedly straight face, as if trying to work out if he was being sarcastic or not. Then her face broke into a wide smile that Ron couldn't help but return as relief flooded his body. He noticed for the first time that Hermione had bits of metal and plastic on her back teeth, probably some crazy Muggle superstition or something, he thought. He started to ask her what it was, but thought it might sound a bit rude and decided against it. After all, today he had already annoyed Hermione, made her cry and locked a violent beast, three times her size, in a small room with her. Now was not the time to question her strange Muggle customs.

It was only after Fred and George had bounded over to Ron with Harry trailing behind them to shake his hand, bow to him several times and repeatedly refer to him as 'Sir Ronniekins the Troll-Slayer', that he wondered how on earth he had gone two months without noticing the weird contraption on Hermione's teeth. Her teeth weren't exactly easily over looked.

The reason he had seen the contraption, Ron thought as he tried and failed to stop the twins re-enacting the fight with the troll with Lee Jordan as the troll, was that it was the first time he had properly seen her teeth. It was with an unfamiliar surge of something like pride, that Ron realised that the reason for this was it was the first time that he had made Hermione Granger smile.

* * *

As soon as she stepped through the flames, Hermione felt the icy cold of the potion disappear. It was quickly replaced by an even more unpleasant sensation: fear. Being as quiet as she possibly could, she ran around the troll, which was thankfully still unconscious, and made her way to the large wooden door on the other side of the room. She wretched in open, stepped through it and then silently closed it behind her. Only once the door was fully shut did she turn around and call out into the chamber.

"Ron?"

She could hear her shaking voice echo off the high ceiling as she tried to put whatever Harry was facing out of her mind and focus on the job in hand. Her eyes frantically searched the floor for a sign of her other best friend. As she began to walk slowly forwards, her breaths became sharper as she fought harder to stop panic setting in. Eventually she found what she was looking for; a flash of red hair, unmoving on the floor.

"RON!"

Sprinting through the gigantic chess pieces, she realised that Ron was still knocked out, lying on his back, his long limbs splayed around him. When she reached him, she fell to her knees and turned his head so she could see his face. Immediately she saw the grazed lump on his forehead where the chess piece had struck him, but was relieved to see that it wasn't bleeding. She had to get him out of here and quickly. Carrying him was out of the question as he was so much taller than her but Hermione couldn't think of any way to bring Ron around.

"Ron, can you hear me?" she whispered, lightly tapping his cheek, "Please, Ron, wake up!"

As she looked wildly around for something to help her, Hermione only saw the chess pieces towering over her and doubled her attempts to revive Ron. She was more scared than she had ever been in her life. This was nothing compared to her first day at Hogwarts, going into the forest or even being cornered by a mountain troll. She was stuck, miles under the school with her two best friends, one of which was in need of medical attention and the other was in very real danger. Worst of all was that she was the only one who could help them.

"Come on!" she cried, now slapping Ron a lot harder than she wanted to but she could feel the tears coming and was becoming desperate. "RON! Please!"

After several moments, Ron's eyes flickered and opened. Hermione froze and felt a pang of guilt when she saw how red his cheek looked underneath the dirt. Ron blearily looked up at her and blinked slowly.

"Ron, are you okay?" Hermione breathlessly asked.

"'Ermione? What… Where… Harry… The Stone…" Ron muttered, his eyes trying to focus as he began to prop himself up on his elbows.

Without thinking, Hermione grabbed him around the neck and pulled him into a tight hug.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she breathed. She heard him say something but the sound was muffled in her bushy hair. Hermione pulled away and held Ron up by the shoulders to stop him from falling back down.

"Sorry?"

"'Hermione, you're strangling me." Ron groaned weakly.

Hermione gasped, realising her mistake. "I'm so sorry, Ron, it's just I'm so relieved and we need to get out of here and get help quickly." She started getting to her feet and tried to drag Ron up with her. Unfortunately, Ron stayed sitting down, swaying slightly.

"What? Where… Where's Harry?" he mumbled, looking around for any sign of him.

Still trying to get Ron to his feet, Hermione launched into an explanation.

"After we won the chess game, we went to the next room but only one of us could get into the last chamber. Snape had already got through so Harry has gone after him and I came back to get you and then find Dumbledore or someone to go and help Harry because he is on his own against Snape!"

She could tell by the slightly blank look on Ron's face that only part of her speech had registered as she tried in vain to pull him up.

"Harry is fighting Snape? Right now?"

"_Yes, _Ron, that's why we have to-"

"We've got to help him!" Ron said as he groggily started trying to stand. He finally got to his feet and staggered a bit before leaning on Hermione for support. Hermione struggled to keep him up-right as he was putting most of his weight on her diminutive frame.

"We've got to go back and get Dumbledore!" While glad that Ron was finally standing, his failure to fully grasp the situation, mixed with her over-whelming sense of fear, was starting to annoy her.

"I'm not leaving Harry," Ron said and started to stumble towards the door leading to the troll's chamber. However he only managed a few steps before he fell back into Hermione, who had been trying to pull him back.

"For goodness sake, Ron! You are twelve years old and barely conscious!" She shrieked hysterically. "What on earth do you expect to accomplish?"

Ron glared at her defiantly for a few seconds. Finally he put his hand over the bump on his head and screwed his face up in pain.

"Please, Ron!" Hermione pleaded. "We've got to go and get help!"

She watched Ron as he took one final look at the door behind him and nodded. This was followed by a look of regret and him massaging his head again. Grateful that he was finally co-operating, Hermione grabbed his hand and started half dragging him to the opposite side of the board.

At first Ron could only stagger but by the time they had reached the room filled with flying keys he was able to run. Neither of them spoke until they were halfway across the chamber, when Ron slowed down.

"Brooms," he said, pulling Hermione to a stop.

Fearing that the blow to his head had been more serious than she originally feared, Hermione replied in a gentle voice. "Yes, they're brooms. Now let's go, shall we?"

Ron looked puzzled by her tone of voice and didn't respond to her trying to pull him further across the room.

"We need them though."

Hermione looked at the old brooms on the floor and then back at Ron. She could feel the panic start to bubble inside her. She couldn't leave him but if he kept stopping for ridiculous reasons like this then she wouldn't really have a choice.

"Ron, can we just-" she began but Ron interrupted her.

"How else do you expect to get up to the trapdoor?"

Finally understanding his idea, Hermione ran over to the brooms they had discarded earlier, retrieved two of them and sprinted the rest of the way across the chamber with Ron hot on her heels.

"Honestly, you're meant to be the smart one," Hermione heard Ron mutter as she opened the door to the first room and Ron took one of the brooms from her.

"Yes, well, I'm under a lot of pressure at the moment!" she replied hotly as the two of them continued running. She could see Devil's Snare had recouped after their last encounter with it and it looked as dangerous as ever.

"Well, I'll leave you to wind down a bit while I collect the fire wood. Oh no! There isn't any!" he teased in mock panic, coming to a halt a safe distance away from the flailing vines.

Hermione bit back her retort and, scowling, shot bluebell flames at the Devil's Snare and started to mount her broom. Ron had already started to hover next to her before she was ready to fly. Taking a steadying breath against the new wave of nerves, she kicked off and followed Ron up and over the now withering plant. She shot up the passageway as fast as she felt she was capable of.

"I hate flying, I really hate flying…" she muttered to herself.

As the cold air whipped her long hair out of her face, Hermione became aware of the stitch that was stabbing her ribs. She also remembered Harry and wondered how long it had been since she left him. Had he gone through with the plan and ventured through the flames? Of course he had, Hermione thought with a mixture of pride and distress. Nothing could have stopped Harry trying to get the Stone… Or could it? She was almost certain Snape was there already and Harry was right, he wasn't really a match for him.

She tried to push away this disturbing thought away as she saw she was coming to the end of the vertical passageway. Above her she could just make out Ron, silhouetted against the entrance. He was quite a way ahead of her. It wasn't until he was nearly at the end of the passageway that she realised a very large problem that awaited him there.

"RON! FLUF-"

But it was too late. She heard him cry out in shock and several loud barks. She couldn't see anything that was happening above her. Horror gripped her insides tighter than it had done that entire night as she started to speed up. Hermione knew she would struggle to control the broom at this speed but she needed to help him, even though she had no idea how. The wind whistled loudly in her ears as she desperately tried to think of a plan.

Nearing the end of the passage Hermione started to notice that the dog's barks were no longer audible. Wondering if her hearing was somehow damaged during the flight, Hermione shot out of the trapdoor, lost control of her broom and landed in a heap next to the harp Snape had used to put Fluffy to sleep. However, at some point after she had jumped through the trapdoor, Fluffy had obviously decided that he didn't like the instrument and had reduced it to splinters.

Hermione sat up quickly and was surprised to see that Fluffy was settling down for a nap on the opposite side of the open trapdoor. Confused, she realised for the first time since reaching the corridor that a noise, oddly like an owl, was coming from by the door that lead to the rest of the school. Turning around to find the source of the noise, she saw a white faced Ron, sitting down backed up against the door playing Harry's flute, his broomstick lay abandoned in front of him. He was staring unblinking at Fluffy's slumbering form.

On shaking legs, that were now covered in grazes from her broomstick crash, she stood up and made her way over to Ron, not taking her eyes off the animal in front of her. When she reached the door she pulled Ron up by the scruff of his neck and quietly opened the door. When they were both safely on the other side and Hermione had closed the door behind them and leant with her back against it and let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

Ron took the flute away from his lips and leant against the door next to her. "How the hell did we forget about the three headed dog?" he asked weakly.

Hermione was unsure if she would ever be able to speak again and merely shook her head at Ron, who smiled at her. The colour was slowly returning to his face.

"Nice landing by the way."

Hermione found her voice had miraculously recovered.

"Oh, shut up."

Once again the pair started running down the stairs, neither of them talking. As they reached the Entrance Hall, they stopped.

"Where do we go?" asked Ron, looking around the hall.

"We need Dumbledore! I wish I knew where his office was…" fretted Hermione. Now they had reached the main school and the shock of seeing Fluffy again had abated, her last, but hopefully not final, conversation with Harry came flooding back to her. She saw panic start to form on Ron's features

"What if he's still in London? How're we-"

"Fortunately, Mr Weasley, I am not."

Hermione spun around and saw Dumbledore striding surprising fast for a man his age through the oak front doors, his silver hair and beard glowing in the moonlight.

"Professor Dumbledore!" they both exclaimed as Hermione ran forward to explain but as she reached him he gave her a look that silenced her.

Dumbledore looked down at Hermione, the glanced up at Ron. His, observations, though brief, seemed to tell him everything he needed to know.

"He's gone after him, hasn't he?"*

Hermione looked into the piercing blue eyes. She had expected to see confusion and maybe anger. After all, she and Ron were first years out of bed and her record wasn't exactly clean when it came to such matters. However, as she nodded silently in reply, she saw a flash of terror and found it most unsettling.

Without another word, Dumbledore hurried towards the stairs leading towards the third floor.

Hermione stared after him for a few moments, not quite sure of what had just happened. Did Dumbledore know about how much they had discovered about the secret hidden deep underneath the castle? Did Dumbledore already suspect Snape? How could he possibly know that Harry was in danger, if he was referring to Harry at all? Realising she couldn't just stand in the Entrance Hall all night thinking about the confusing exchange, she turned to Ron and saw he was open mouthed and still staring at the spot he had last seen the headmaster leave.

"Ron, I think we should go to the hospital wing." She found herself whispering, although she wasn't sure why. "That lump on your head looks rather nasty."

Ron didn't reply. He just continued starting, unblinking.

"We can't stay here. Can you hear me?" She moved in front of him as she spoke. His behaviour had been so erratic since she had found him in the giant chessboard chamber that she wanted to have Madam Pomfrey check him over sooner rather than later.

"Ron?"

"He knows my name," Ron said, finally looking down at Hermione.

"Who?"

"Dumbledore. He knows my name."

Ron's eyes looked rather glazed as he spoke in a faraway voice.

"So? You're his student, of course he does," snapped Hermione, once again trying to drag Ron against his will to somewhere more sensible than his current location.

"But it's _Dumbledore, _Hermione," he spoke as if he were explaining basic maths to her, which did nothing but infuriate Hermione.

"This really isn't the time to be star struck, Ron. Now _move!_" she growled, giving him a firm push to get him to walk properly.

"Just because he doesn't know your name…"

She punched him in the arm which seemed to jolt him out of his haze.

They walked in silence for a few minutes. The corridors were deserted and mostly moonlit. Hermione had expected to bump into a teacher on patrol or at least Filch as they made their way to the hospital wing, but they met no one. She was very grateful for this as she didn't want to have to explain why she was out of bed again and this time looking more than worse for wear.

When they reached the doors to the hospital wing, Ron tried to open them but found they were locked.

"Gryffindor Tower?" Ron asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"What about your head?" It didn't seem to be too bad a bump but Hermione would feel a lot better when she was sure Ron was all right.

"It's fine. Well all right, it hurts like hell but I'll be alright eventually," he added when she gave him a sceptical look.

"Look, Hermione," Ron continued when she started to protest, "It's not like anything valuable was damaged."

He gave her a cheeky grin, which she grudgingly returned and they started making their way up hurriedly through the castle.

The Fat Lady arched her eyebrows when they gave her the password, but they made no explanation as to why they were returning so late and why they were dishevelled, dirty and injured and proceeded to climb through the portrait hole.

Hermione inspected the clock on the wall and saw that it was three in the morning. The fire was long extinguished and the only company they had was a few broken quills discarded on the tables and Trevor the toad. Despite the lateness of the hour, the last thing she wanted to do was go up to her dormitory. Ron was apparently in the same frame of mind and they simultaneously headed towards the comfy sofas by the fire place.

"Neville recovered then," Ron laughed shakily.

Hermione smiled guiltily as they sat next to each other on the sofa opposite the fire. Her thoughts abruptly turned towards more serious matters.

"Harry will be okay, won't he?" she asked without looking at Ron and instead gazed at the charred wood in front of her.

There was a small pause before Ron replied in a quiet voice.

"Yeah. Dumbledore's with him."

Hermione was about to voice her worries about Dumbledore not making it on time but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. Ron somehow seemed to know what she had been about to say.

"Look," he said, turning his head to look at her. "He's the Boy Who Lived, isn't he? He'll be fine. You'll see. Harry will get the Stone, Snape will get sacked and we will all be happier for the experience."

While she could see the worry in his eyes, she could also detect the underlying confidence he had in his friend and Hermione found more comfort in that than any nickname.

The two friends spent the night sat next to each other on the sofa, millions thoughts running through their heads but never feeling the need to say any of them aloud, until eventually the night's events caught up with them and they drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Ron readjusted his bag on his shoulder as he made his way down the staircase towards the hospital wing. It was slightly heavier than usual and once again he found himself questioning Hermione's crazy determination with her schoolwork. Normally it wasn't too bad as the extra weight was distributed between him and Harry, but this evening Harry had Quidditch practise so everything was packed into Ron's bag.

He opened the door to the hospital wing, giving Madam Pomfrey a small wave as he made his way over to a bed in the far end of the ward that was completely obscured from view by a curtain. Madam Pomfrey eyed him suspiciously but allowed him to approach the bed.

"I keep telling her to rest but she won't listen. Are you still sure you don't know what happened?"

Ron could feel himself go red under the glare of the Hogwarts matron but knew that if he just kept playing dumb they all might actually get away with it.

"No. No idea." He couldn't quite meet her eyes and he could tell she still suspected foul play but she opened the curtains just to let him walk through anyway.

"Not too long, Mr Weasley," she said as she turned to go to her office. "This isn't a holiday camp, you know."

"Barking," he muttered under his breath as he walked through the curtain and closed it behind him.

He was unsurprised to see Hermione sat up in bed with a book open on her lap. He was slightly repulsed to see it was one of Gilderoy Lockhart's but he was getting used to Hermione's obsession with pompous git so it wasn't that shocking. What was still somewhat shocking, however, was the brown fur that covered Hermione's face, arms and pointy ears. Over the past couple of days the Polyjuice Potion had started to wear off and Hermione was becoming gradually less feline. She still had a tail but it was a lot smaller now; Ron could just see it poking out the other side of the bed. Her eyes were just starting to return their natural brown and her fingernails were not nearly as sharp as they were.

When he had first seen what had happened to her he was obviously worried but now they knew Hermione was going to be fine in a week or so the situation had started to become fairly comical. Well, it had to him at least.

"Hi," he said, sitting down on the chair next to the bed. "I brought you a present!"

Hermione looked up, closed her book and smiled at him.

"It had better not be another saucer of milk," she frowned, "because I told you before that cats can't even have-"

"I know, I know. I heard you last time," Ron grinned, remembering yesterday's visit. She had been angry with him at first but she eventually lightened up and started to see the funny side. Well, Ron reflected, she had started speaking to him again by the end of the visit. "Today's is much better, you're going to love it."

He rummaged in his bags for a few minutes while she watched him sceptically. Eventually he found what he was looking for and pulled out several rolls of parchment with a flourish.

"Transfiguration and Potions notes and a Charms essay!" he announced handing them to her.

"Oh, thanks!" she said as she took them off him and started to skim read the Transfiguration notes. "You could try and make your handwriting legible, you know," she added with a frown

Ron pulled a face but didn't say anything. Deep down he knew she probably had a point but he was never going to tell her that. Instead he made the point he had made every day since term had restarted.

"Why are you still doing the homework? Flitwick said you didn't have to when I asked him for an extra copy for you." He could tell she was ignoring him again but he carried on regardless. "You've been given a free pass, a holiday! Take it Hermione! Grab it with both paw- hands," he corrected himself hastily.

She gave him a withering look. Ron could tell just by looking at those yellow eyes that she knew exactly what he had nearly said.

"We've been through this." She sounded as though she was forcing herself to stay patient with him. "I don't want to fall behind." She continued reading the notes as if he hadn't spoken.

Ron laughed incredulously. "Hermione, if you had turned into tiger and ran off into the forest, lived there for four years and then sat your end of year exams, you would still get triple everyone else's score!"

Hermione ignored him but her expression softened. Ron knew that she wasn't really annoyed at him. They had this argument several times a day since they had become friends but it still mystified Ron that Hermione still believed she had to study.

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Hermione finished reading Ron's Transfiguration notes. Eventually she rolled up the parchment and placed it on her bedside table.

"So," she said. "Anything interesting happen today?"

Ron thought for a moment. Interesting by his standards was a lot different to Hermione's.

"Nothing really interesting happened in lessons," he started but Hermione interrupted.

"I'm sure it did, Ron. You just weren't paying attention." She lowered her voice. "What I meant to say was did you find out anything new today?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron and he understood what she meant immediately.

He shook his head. Now they knew Malfoy wasn't the heir of Slytherin, Ron found himself feeling slightly lost. He would've bet anything that they had guessed right. There wasn't anyone else it could be in Ron's eyes. Malfoy was just the sort of greasy slime ball who would hang around with a dirty great monster in a grand secret chamber. It was then that a sudden thought occurred to him.

"Malfoy was hanging around on the fourth floor! Maybe-"

"Oh, here we go," Hermione sighed.

"-that's where the Chamber is!" Ron finished, undeterred by Hermione's interruption.

"Ron. Please stop suspecting Malfoy. It is getting us nowhere."

Ron looked at Hermione for a few seconds. He knew she was right but it was so hard for him to let go of the theory that he had pegged all his hopes on.

"I was just _so sure _it was him!" he cried, punching the arm of his chair out of frustration.

"I know, Ron," said Hermione in a bored voice. "You have said so before."

"But I was just-"

"-so sure. I know."

"But-"

"Ron!"

Ron slumped back in his chair and folded his arms petulantly. "All right, all right! Keep your fur on."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond but Ron was saved by Madam Pomfrey who had stuck her head round the curtain to talk to Hermione.

"What would you like for dinner, dear? It's a choice between beef casserole or tuna pasta bake."

Ron looked up at Hermione with a smirk on his face. He could just see the pink tinge growing on her cheeks underneath her fur.

"Tuna pasta bake, please," she mumbled.

Madam Pomfrey smiled and went off to tend to the rest of her patients.

Hermione started busying herself with the pieces of parchment on her desk to avoid looking at Ron and they didn't speak for a few moments. Ron decided to let Hermione's eating habits go unmentioned.

"Look," he said quietly. Hermione looked up at his change of tone. "I know it's not Malfoy, okay? It's just he is such a git, I wanted it to be him just so I could take him down a peg or two."

Hermione looked relieved at his new outlook. "I know. I think I probably wanted it to be him as well. He is just too foul for words sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Ron laughed disbelievingly, "How about every waking moment? What I wouldn't give to punch him in the face…"

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. "You can't go around punching people in the face!"

"Malfoy is hardly a person," Ron snorted.

"That is beside the point," stated Hermione firmly. "Anyway, you've already punched him. Last year at the Hufflepuff game, remember?"

Ron cast his mind back to that beautiful day last year and allowed himself to reminisce until Hermione's voice cut through his daydreaming.

"It is nothing to be proud of."

Ron raised his eyebrows. He considered punching Malfoy one of the proudest moments of his life. Hermione saw the look on his face and tutted loudly.

"What? So you're saying you wouldn't be proud of yourself if you punched Malfoy?" Ron rounded on her.

Hermione looked scandalised. "Of course not! I don't go around punching people!"

Ron laughed at her indignation. "So you're saying you wouldn't hit anybody? Ever?"

"Or course not," she repeated incredulously.

"Not even Malfoy?"

"No. I would not even hit Malfoy in the face."

Ron looked at her dubiously. He couldn't believe anyone would pass up the chance to break Malfoy's nose.

"What about if he called you a- you know- M-word?" he reasoned.

Hermione shook her head. "He calls me that all the time. It's rather boring actually. It's not worth belching slugs over."

She continued looking at him, with that superior look on her face that Ron knew so well. Ron scowled at her and folded his arms again. The memories of that day were still painful. He glared at the end of her bed to show he was not about to relive it.

Instead of continuing along the moral high ground, she sighed and furrowed her brow.

"You know, I don't think I ever really thanked you for that," she said quietly.

Ron turned his head to look at her again.

"Thank me? What for?" he asked confused.

"Well," Hermione started, fiddling with her bed covers. "That day Malfoy first called me a you-know-what, you were the only one who stood up for me."

Ron was taken aback and felt as though the hospital wing had become slightly warmer than before.

"Yeah, well, everyone else was angry as well and stuff," he stuttered but Hermione cut across him.

"None of them tried to curse him," Hermione said with a small smile.

"I hit myself though," Ron blurted out. He didn't know how the conversation had taken this turn and was struggling to bring it back round to playful bickering and teasing.

"Just take the compliment, Ron," snapped Hermione.

"No need to be so catty about it…"

He knew he had gone too far when he saw the look in her eyes. If looks could kill he would've been on the floor by now. Hermione clenched her fists and hissed at him like a cat.

Ron stared at her. She seemed as shocked by her bizarre behaviour as he was. He could feel the corner of his mouth start to twitch but before he could even try and stop himself making what he was sure was a big mistake, he had started roaring with laughter.

Fortunately Hermione smiled at him, although rather reluctantly.

"Oh, shut up, Slug Boy," she scolded, throwing a pillow at him. "Or I will bring out the salt."

* * *

"You solved it! You solved it!"**

Hermione was sprinting up the Gryffindor table towards her two best friends. Their faces broke into wide smiles at the sight of her. As soon as she reached them, she flung her arms around both of them simultaneously and squeezed as tightly as she could.

"I knew you could do it!" she shouted excitedly. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes and she brushed them away impatiently as she let them go. Both of them goggled at her bemusedly.

"No lasting damage then?" grinned Harry as he massaged his neck.

Hermione told them of how as soon as she had been revived by Madam Pomfrey she had tried to explain about the Basilisk, but the matron had interrupted her by saying her "reckless friends had once again thrown themselves stupidly into harm's way" and had saved the day. Once Hermione had established that Harry and Ron were both fine, Professor McGonagall had filled her and the rest of the Basilisk's victims in on the past few months activities. She was horrified when she learnt that Ginny had been taken into the chamber, although it did explain why Harry and Ron had gone into the chamber in the first place.

"I'm so proud of you, both of you," she said and went to hug them both again but they hastily backed away looking scared.

"It was you who worked out that it was a basilisk, Hermione," Harry said, sitting back down at the Gryffindor table and picking up his goblet of Pumpkin juice. "We only worked out where the chamber was."

"But I was petrified before I could tell you," questioned Hermione, sitting down opposite him. "How could I have helped you?"

Ron, who had sat down next to Harry, started to chuckle. "Same way you always do."

He pulled out a small, crumpled piece of old looking parchment that she instantly recognised as the part of the library book she had torn out. To her it seemed like only a couple of hours since she had first read that piece of parchment, when in reality it had been several weeks. She slowly reached forward and took it from Ron.

"It was in my hand when I was attacked."

"Exactly," said Harry.

"So we just copied," chimed in Ron.

She sighed. She had the feeling that the two of them would never learn to do their own work.

Harry and Ron took turns in telling Hermione what they had been up to since she had been attacked while the other one ate. Hermione was shocked and appalled at the amount of rules they had broken. Sneaking off into the forest, listening in on the Minister for Magic's conversations, lying to Professor McGonagall… it was a miracle they hadn't been expelled. She couldn't imagine what it had been like for Ron to find out what had happened to Ginny the way he did. But something about this part of the story bothered her and she interrupted.

"But when Ginny was taken into the chamber, why didn't you tell Professor Lockhart that you knew where the entrance was? He could have easily saved- what?" Hermione stopped talking when she saw Harry and Ron exchange nervous looks.

"Haven't you heard?" Ron asked slyly.

"Heard what?" Hermione did not like the looks her friends were giving her. She automatically looked up at the teachers' table but there was no sign of Lockhart's handsome face.

"I'll let you take this one, mate," laughed Harry as he helped himself to some more vegetables.

Ron put down his cutlery and looked at Hermione with a very serious expression.

"Now, Hermione," he began in consoling voice, "What I am about to tell you may upset you a great deal; it may even break your heart."

Hermione laughed. Surely this was some kind of joke the two of them were playing on her.

"Ron, I doubt anything you say could ever _break my heart._"

In response Ron raised his eyebrows and said "Don't say I didn't warn you." He took a deep breath before he started speaking again. "Didn't you ever think it was weird that even though in his books he was a super powerful wizard who took on half the world and still managed to have time to do his hair, in real life you only ever saw him fail to perform basic spells and make time to do his hair?"

Hermione looked into Ron's smirking face and tried to think of a reasonable explanation. She had given this much thought over the year (much more than she would ever admit to Ron) and had never been able to come up with a decent excuse for Professor Lockahart's behaviour.

"Maybe he just doesn't like to show off?" she tried.

Across from her Harry snorted and started choking on his parsnips.

"Or maybe," Ron proclaimed, with the air of someone on the edge of definite victory, "he didn't do any of it."

"What?" Hermione could feel herself going pink.

"Maybe he just found people who actually had done these amazing things, put memory charms on them and then took the credit for all of their hard work?" Ron looked as though Christmas had come early, Malfoy had been expelled and the Chudley Cannons had won the league all on the same day.

Hermione felt as though all the air had left the Great Hall. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. She had admired Professor Lockhart not just for his good looks, like all the other girls, but because of all the amazing things he had accomplished. He was smart and brave; it was just a happy twist of fate that he happened to be incredibly handsome. There was no way she could have been this badly mistaken.

"Now, come on," Hermione began hotly, "How could you possibly know that?"

"He told us. Right before he tried to wipe mine and Harry's memories and take the credit for discovering the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets." Ron was smiling as though nearly having his memory erased was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Shocked to her core, Hermione looked to Harry (who was still rather red in the face from the parsnip incident) in the hope that he would contradict Ron. When he didn't, Hermione covered her face with her hands in embarrassment. After a few moments, she looked up to see Harry looking concerned and Ron with a look of superiority on his face.

"That's horrid," she finally muttered. "How did you get away? And where is he now?"

Ron and Harry looked at each other again.

"You can have this one," Ron said guiltily, nodding at Harry.

It took Harry the best part of half an hour to finish the rest of the story up until the feast had started. Of all the recaps she had received this evening this one had been the hardest to listen to. The idea of Ginny being possessed for most of the year was very hard to process.

When Harry had told her about Lockhart's fate Hermione couldn't help but feel he got what he deserved. This shocked her a bit. She had spent the year defending and admiring him but now she was partially glad that his scheme had backfired and he no longer knew who he was. Surely she wasn't this fickle?

It dawned on her that maybe her admiration for Lockhart had always just been a school girl crush, like Ron had always said. Of course, she would never, _ever_ admit this to him.

When the ceiling of the Great Hall started to show the beginnings of dawn, Professor Dumbledore announced that it was time for the students to start making their way to their beds. Hermione rose with the rest of Gryffindor and began heading towards the Entrance Hall. In front of her she saw the Ravenclaw prefect, Penelope, who had been attacked with her and gave her a small smile of greeting. She went to talk to her properly, but Penelope had started talking to Percy Weasley, who seemed to have appeared from nowhere.

"So are you okay about Lockhart being a git all along then?" she heard Ron say conversationally behind her as they reached the marble staircase.

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" she asked scathingly. This was a lie. Hermione was angry with herself for being fooled so easily by someone with no moral compass. She had never thought of herself to be the sort of girl who swooned over handsome men just because they had nice smiles and finding out she was troubled her a bit. Although now Hermione thought about it, Lockhart's smile wasn't really that attractive…

"Because you fancied the pillock?" offered Ron as they reached the top of the marble staircase. Hermione hit him on the arm and Harry laughed.

"Look everyone makes mistakes, even you," Ron teased, rubbing his arm. "Just don't fall for some prat next time."

Just as he finished talking, Ron walked straight into a suit of armour which fell on top of him, wailing loudly. While Hermione and Harry laughed so hard they had to cling to the wall to keep them upright, Ron scrambled to his feet swearing under his breath.

"I'm sick of things in this place attacking me," he muttered as they started heading towards Gryffindor Tower again, Hermione and Harry still chuckling at Ron's misfortune.

* * *

*Line from Philosophers Stone, Chapter 17

**Line from Chamber of Secrets, Chapter 18


	2. The Start of Something Sirius

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns everything Harry Potter. Please don't sue me._

_A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed/story alerted! As this is my first published story I really had no idea what to expect but so far it has all been positive so I am beyond happy. I'm sorry if my replies were just incomprehensible gushing but that was all I was capable of at the time. If my head swells up and I become an egotistical mess then you will have been the cause. Again, thank you._

_And so we reach Prisoner of Azkaban. Apologies for the terrible pun included in the chapter title; I couldn't help myself. I promise this will be the last one. Until chapter 4 anyway. After that there will be no more dodgy puns, which is a crying shame really._

The Start of Something Sirius

(_Hogsmeade: Hermione Stumbles / Gryffindor Courage Versus A Crying Girl / The Beginning: Hermione Falls_)

Hermione stepped out into the wind and wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. Even though she had gotten used to the cold air before, now she had stepped out of the Hogsmeade Post Office it was back in full force.

"Did you see those tiny owls?" Ron yelled over the sound of the wind. "They're a nuisance!"

"They're just excitable, Ron," she replied as they started heading further up the street, through the many Hogwarts students, Hogsmeade residents and a large black dog that had a newspaper in its mouth.

"They're like the owl version of that Creevey kid," Ron scoffed. "I don't know how Harry puts up with him."

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron had always wanted an owl of his own. Pure jealousy was the reason he was currently ranting up a storm. Hermione was tempted to get him to admit this but she knew how not being able to afford the things that Harry had bothered him. She could never see why; she was never concerned with how much money people had or didn't have. Just look at Malfoy! He was horrid while Ron, whose family wasn't as well off, was lovely.

"Why is that dog following us?" Ron asked with his nose wrinkled in disgust. "It smells like a sweaty hippogriff."

Well, most of the time he was lovely.

Hermione turned just in time to see the massive dog bound away from them and around the corner. She stared after it for a while when Ron started speaking again.

"So, where do you want to go next?" he asked with a shrug.

"Oh, can we go to Scrivenshafts?" Hermione said brightly. "I heard they have this parchment that-"

"Are you being serious?" Ron laughed. "Scrivenshafts? Your first trip to Hogsmeade and you want to look at _quills? _Can you not stop working for five minutes?"

Hermione frowned at him. Just because she was out of the castle didn't mean she was going to start running around throwing dungbombs. "They don't just sell quills. They sell-"

"Alright, alright," Ron half-shouted. "Scrivenshafts is incredibly interesting and I'm sure we will have a splendid time there, I get it. But George said it was at the other end of the high street so is there anywhere else you want to go first?"

Hermione thought only for a split second before she thought of the other place she was desperate to visit. "The Shrieking Shack!"

Ron groaned. "It's just a shack, Hermione! Can't we go to Zonko's?"

She knew this would happen. Ron would of course want to stuff his pockets with jokes and sweets while she would want to do something worthwhile like visit all the places of historical interest. It was times like this she wondered how she and Ron had been friends for nearly two years without falling out for more than an hour or so. The whole thing reminded her of a conversation she had with the girl she sat next to in Arithmancy, Lisa Turpin, in the second week of term.

Hermione had been the only third year Gryffindor to pick Arithmancy so when she had attended her first class she had no idea where to sit. The two Slytherins had sat together and the few Hufflepuffs that she was friendly with had also bunched together. The majority of Ravenclaw were there and one of them, who turned out to be Lisa, was sat on her own so Hermione pushed away the familiar 'first day of school' nerves and sat next to her.

Lisa had turned out to be far nicer than Hermione could've hoped for and at no point did she start nervously start reeling out facts like she did when she normally first met people. At first she seemed shy and couldn't believe that Hermione could talk about '_The_ Harry Potter' so casually. By the end of the second week Lisa felt comfortable enough in Hermione's presence to tell her that everyone in her house had been asking her what 'Potter's Girlfriend' was really like. Hermione had laughed when Lisa had said that they didn't believe her when she had explained that Hermione and Harry weren't together.

"Is that really what the rest of the school thinks of me?" Hermione had asked at a whisper, while flicking through her text book.

"Most of them," Lisa had shrugged.

Hermione had never really considered how the rest of the school thought of her. She just assumed that they saw what was actually there – three close friends.

"Who do they think Ron is? Our chaperone?" she chuckled.

"Actually they think he is Harry's friend who puts up with you," Lisa stated without looking up from her work.

"Wait," said Hermione stunned. "They think Ron and I aren't friends? We just spend time together because we're both friends with Harry?"

Lisa considered this summary for a moment, sucking on the end of her quill. "Yep, sounds about right. I think it's because in Ravenclaw we've all heard about your academic record and as for – Ron, did you say his name was? – Well, aren't those twins a couple of years above us his brothers?"

"The Head Boy is his brother as well," huffed Hermione defensively.

"Really," said Lisa, wide eyed. "Well, it's always seemed like you and Ron don't really have that much in common."

As she and Ron fought against the wind, Hermione thought about Lisa's words. Yes, her and Ron were very different people but they could still hold a conversation when it was just the two of them, couldn't they? When Harry had Quidditch practise they spent time alone but there was usually piles of homework to keep them from being bored. Since that conversation with Lisa, Hermione had been worried about today. Surely she and Ron could spend a few hours and not get bored or start to hate each other.

Hermione had been wrong to doubt her friendship with Ron. As soon as they had gotten to Zonko's he had bounced around from shelf to shelf with a look of pure joy like a five year old that had had way too much sugar. Hermione got caught up in his enthusiasm and found his wide smile was highly infectious. While she didn't buy anything and disapproved of everything Ron had, she still had to admit that that spending time alone with Ron had been the most fun she had had in ages. There was no Time Turner, no homework and, though she felt guilty for thinking it, none of Harry's Sirius Black troubles.

Laughing, she finally managed to drag Ron out of Zonko's.

"C'mon! I didn't even look at that section! Can't we go back in?" Ron pleaded, fighting playfully against Hermione's grip.

"No!" she chided. "We've still got lots of places to go and you'll just spend the rest of your money and I know you want to raid Honeydukes by the end of the day."

"I've got plenty of money left," Ron grumbled, his ears turning red and looking at his shoes.

Hermione's stomach dropped. To try and make up for her inadvertent error she rubbed his arm and said "I know. You're just likely to spend it all in one place."

Ron grinned at her guiltily from under his ginger fringe. Hermione suddenly became aware that her hand was still resting on his elbow and she hastily pulled it away hoping he didn't notice. "So can we go to Honeydukes now?" he asked hopefully.

Hermione turned around and started heading up the street again and rolled her eyes.

"I heard that!" he shouted as he jogged to catch up with her. "So where are we going?"

"Well, it's my turn to pick so it's the Shrieking Shack."

Ignoring Ron's groan, Hermione carried on leading them to the shack, telling him all sorts of interesting facts about it in the hope he might be able to see how it wasn't boring after all. When they eventually got there, the two of them stood looking at the decrepit dwelling. Hermione continued teaching Ron the history of the place while they studied the cracked windows and untamed front lawn.

"You don't actually find this fun, do you?" Ron inquired after a few minutes, looking as though he was scared of her reply.

Hermione bit her lip. While learning about it had been fascinating she had to admit that staring at the empty house wasn't living up to her expectations. Telling Ron this was not an option.

"Well, maybe not _fun_ exactly, but it's still- I mean to say that I find it-" she stammered.

"You're bored!" exclaimed Ron, with a sly grin inching its way across his face.

"No, I'm not," protested Hermione. "It's just-"

"Oh, come on," chortled Ron. "You've been reciting your History of Magic textbook just to keep yourself from falling asleep! Admit it."

"Fine!" snapped Hermione, crossing her arms. "I'm bored. Happy?"

Ron's answer was written all over his beaming face. "So I was right about Zonko's being more fun than this grotty old place?"

"Yes, Ron," Hermione sighed, scowling at him. "You were right!"

Ron threw his hands up in the air and starting cheering. "FINALLY! Brilliant Mind – one billion, ninety thousand, seven hundred and ninety three. Ron Weasley – one!"

Hermione's huffy mood dissolved at the sight of Ron mock celebration.

"You're catching me up then?" she laughed as they started heading back towards the main street.

When they reached the main shops Hermione turned to head towards Honeydukes but Ron pulled her the other way.

"What? I thought you wanted to go to Honeydukes?" wondered Hermione as Ron continued to drag her away from the sweet shop.

"Yeah, but Scrivenshafts is up there and we can just go to Honeydukes on the way to the Three Broomsticks," Ron explained with a shrug.

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You-you want to go to Scrivenshafts?"

"I need some more ink and besides, I hear they have this parchment that lets you _write _on it!" he added in mock excitement, flailing his arms around dramatically.

"Prat," Hermione muttered, pushing him slightly.

As they braced themselves against the harsh wind that was turning their cheeks pinker, Hermione once again reflected on the rest of the schools assumption that she and Ron were only friends because of Harry. It wasn't until she caught Ron laughing at a bottle of novelty ink that exploded if anyone but the owner tried to use it and he agreed it was now one billion ninety thousand seven hundred and ninety _four _to Brilliant Mind, that she realised how stupid she had been to ever doubt herself. She and Ron were just as close as friends as they were with Harry. So what if they were different? Or that their pets hated each other? Or if he wanted to slack off while she wanted to actually do her homework on time? The muggle saying, in this case, was right, that opposites do attract.

Well, not _attract, _thought Hermione as they left to go to the Three Broomsticks, more spend time together and enjoy it. She wasn't attracted to Ron. That would be absurd…

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Ron looked out the window at the snow falling on the grounds and idly reached for the almost empty pack of chocolate frogs in front of him.

"You have just had breakfast," snapped Hermione over the top of the book she had been reading. "You can't seriously be considering eating sweets already!"

"I'm still hungry though!" he protested.

Hermione rolled her eyes, slammed her book shut and sat back in her chair with her arms folded. Despite still wanting a chocolate frog, Ron sat back as well and continued looking out of the window where he could see Hagrid making his way rather slowly back to his hut. Only Hermione could get so worked up over something so unimportant on the first day of the holidays.

He turned back to look around the deserted common room and saw that Hermione was staring at him with a strange expression her face.

"What?" he said defensively, "I'm still growing! I need-"

"Ron, I don't care about your stomach." She paused and unfolded her arms, her expression changing. She suddenly looked very nervous. "I- I'm worried about Harry."

Ron glanced at the door leading to the boy's dormitories where he knew Harry was currently sleeping despite it being nearly midday. He knew this was something to do with the conversation the three of them had overheard yesterday in the Three Broomsticks. Finding out your parents had died because of their best friend's betrayal wasn't exactly pleasant but Ron knew Harry was made of stronger stuff than most. He was sure he was going to be fine.

"After we got back yesterday he was clearly upset," Hermione continued. "I- I'm scared he might, well, try and do something."

"Like?"

She tutted at his response. Ron couldn't see what Harry could do about it.

"Put yourself in his position." Hermione sounded as though she might start crying which Ron found a bit disconcerting. "The man responsible for your parents' deaths is free-"

"But-"

"- and he is trying to hunt you down," Hermione pressed, "while everyone you know is patronising you and telling you to stay safe-"

"No one is patronising him!" Ron protested.

Hermione shook her head. "You know how independent Harry is! He is going to see it that way!"

Without further ado Hermione dissolved into a fit of tears and buried her head in her hands.

"He's g-going to t-try and do something stupid," came her muffled voice. "I-I j-just know it!"

Ron gulped. Crying girls made him uncomfortable. What were you supposed to do with them? Running away, while tempting, was probably frowned upon. Should he say something nice? He scrapped this idea when he tried to think of something to say and came across only a strange buzzing sound.

Ron had never been so grateful that Ginny wasn't a crier (well, except for the beginning of this summer, Ron reasoned) or he'd have to deal with these water works all the time. He was sure he had seen Hermione crying before… What usually stopped Hermione crying? With a jolt Ron remembered the only previous time he had seen Hermione in this state was two years ago on Halloween when his unkind words had been the cause. There weren't any stray trolls wandering around the castle to save him this time.

He watched with increasing panic as Hermione's shoulders continued to shake. Getting desperate, Ron reached over and grabbed the bag of chocolate frogs and was shocked to see he had eaten all but one of them. Ron took the wrapped chocolate out of the bag and considered his options. He could either keep the chocolate and find another way of calming Hermione or he could offer her the chocolate and hope she stopped crying. He hesitated before eventually holding the Frog out to her.

"Her-Hermione?" he said, thinking that at least Lupin would be proud of his actions.

Sniffing, she looked up at him and he gave her a small smile.

"But it's- it's your last one?" she mumbled, glancing at the now empty bag. Her red-rimmed eyes were wide with shock.

Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Why was she making this so hard for him? Resolving that it would be cruel to retract his offer now, he shrugged. "Yeah, so?"

Hermione tentatively reached out and took the Chocolate Frog and murmured her thanks. While tears were still slowly running down her red cheeks she was at least able to speak properly now. It was a definite improvement.

"We're his friends," she whispered, looking at the Chocolate Frog she was twirling in her small hands. "We've got to look after him. I'd never forgive myself if-if he-" Hermione broke down in tears again and was unable to finish her sentence.

"Eat the frog, Hermione," Ron pleaded.

"Chocolate doesn't solve everything, Ron!" she spat. Her hair was all over the place making her look truly terrifying.

"Maybe you're just upset because there's a dementor nearby?" he suggested weakly. The death glare she gave him was enough to make him cower in his chair. Somehow he'd made the whole situation worse by introducing Angry Hermione into the mix. If Bossy Hermione made an appearance Ron was definitely going to throw himself out of the window.

"He is your _best friend,_" she growled at him. "It's like you don't even care!"

"Look," said Ron in a voice that he hoped was placating and not scared. "Why don't we just _talk _to Harry? Tell him he'd be stupid to go after Black and then just keep an eye on him. I'm sure he'll listen if it's both of us."

"You mean gang up on him and force him to see sense?" asked Hermione, her expression unreadable.

"Um, yeah."

Ron waited with baited breath while Hermione chewed this over.

After a few minutes she sighed and started unwrapping the Chocolate Frog. "That's actually not a bad idea."

Hermione bit the head off her Frog and stared off into space, undoubtedly working out the best tactics of cornering Harry into not getting himself killed and Ron let out a sigh of relief. It had been a close call but the danger had been averted; Hermione was now nowhere near exploding or being overly emotional. Ron picked up the bag of Chocolate Frogs in the hope of having some chocolate to celebrate his victory with when he remembered he had given Hermione his last one. He had some peppermint toads left in his bag but it just wasn't the same.

Frowning slightly at Hermione munching on his last piece of chocolate, Ron found that he didn't really regret giving it to her that much. In fact it had been worth it to stop her crying.

"By the way, have you started on that Charms essay yet? I hope you're not planning on rushing through it the night before like last time."

Well, almost worth it anyway.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Harry, don't you have practice?"

Hermione watched as Harry checked his watch and the panic saturated his eyes.

"Oh no," he muttered hastily, gathering his things from the table and shoving them unceremoniously into his bag. "Wood'll kill me if I'm late."

"Well, he is currently on the verge of killing anyone so it wouldn't be personal," reasoned Ron, looking up from his book.

Harry swung his bag over his shoulder and snorted. "I think I'm on the verge of killing him. If he tells me about being sixty points in the lead one more time…"

As Harry left the library Hermione turned back to the book she was reading. It was a very difficult book about laws involving magical creatures. Some of the laws were barbaric and biased and Hermione was struggling to concentrate on Buckbeak's appeal when she was in half a mind to research whether or not the laws had been updated since the book was written but Hagrid needed her. Plus she had quite a bit of homework to do after this.

It wasn't just the complicated words or indignation that Hermione found distracting, however; for the past minutes since Harry left them, Ron had been staring at her for reasons she couldn't begin to think of. She chanced a glance at him to try and gage his expression. He looked concerned and a prickling sensation erupted on the back of her neck. Hermione rubbed the back of her neck to try and make it stop.

"What, Ron?" she snapped, when her neck still refused to act normally. He looked scared at her tone of voice. She didn't mean to be annoyed with him but her temper was always on edge at the moment.

"How're you doing it?"

"What?"

He waved his arms at the large pile of books in front of her.

"My homework? I find paying attention in lessons tends to help-"

"You know what I mean."

Hermione bit back her reply. Ron sounded angry. Overall she had found it fairly easy to hide the Time Turner from Harry and Ron. At the beginning of the year she decided that instead of making up a story that she might struggle to keep to, she would simply be vague and defiant and hope that the boys would be as inattentive as usual. Sometimes she was grateful for Black taking up so much of Harry's attention. Unfortunately, Ron seemed to be getting more and more interested in her unusual timetable. It was always him who noticed that she looked extra tired or suddenly disappeared. It was annoying but it was sort of nice that he was paying attention.

"Hard work doesn't hurt you, Ron," she said scathingly and started to read again. She heard Ron scoff.

"Well, at least let me handle Buckbeak's case so you can do your homework. You've got loads. Surely you can't afford to have a night off."

"I'm doing just fine with my homework, Ron," she replied through gritted teeth. "I can do my Arithmancy essay tomorrow."

In actual fact she knew that a future version of herself was currently sat on her bed with the hangings drawn, doing the essay. Nine months ago this sort of thing had been hard to grasp and gave her a headache to think about, now it was second nature. When she was desperate she would go to the library to do one essay and then, when she had finished that, pretend to go to bed, go back in time a few hours and do another essay while everyone thought she was sleeping. It was a great plan, as she was always careful not to be seen but it did mean she had to have a few sleepless nights. She was handling it fine though.

"Look, Hermione," Ron whispered, leaning forward. She met his gaze and saw tiny flecks of brown mixed in with the blue of his irises. How had she never spotted them before? "I know you're up to something. Your timetable makes no sense. You do more homework than is physically possible-"

The Time Turner seemed to twitch under her jumper.

"-and you never sleep! You're going mad, Hermione. Admit it."

There was too much truth in his words for her to deny them. He was going to try and make her give up but she wasn't going to. Giving up meant failing and Hermione Granger did not fail.

"I'm fine, especially after dropping Divination," she replied in a voice of controlled calm.

Ron sat back and started laughing. "Exactly! You would _never _walk out of a lesson normally!"

"Divination is hardly a lesson…" she muttered as she picked her book up again to start reading.

"And the whole Malfoy thing?"

She froze. She had lost control but who could blame her? Malfoy deserved it, even if Hermione was slightly ashamed of herself. Dreading the gloating expression she was sure to see, she slowly looked back at Ron. Instead Ron was smiling at her and she felt herself blush.

"I don't think I've ever been so proud of anyone in my life," he said. "But still, just tone down the crazy, yeah? I'm scared to be in the same room as you sometimes."

Hermione chuckled and felt some of the tension leave her body. She hadn't even noticed it was there. If there was one positive of having Ron as a friend it was his ability to lighten the mood and make you feel better without really trying.

"Talking of scaring you," Hermione frowned. "I know you haven't done that potions essay. Shouldn't you be doing that instead of the appeal?"

Ron shrugged. "This is more important," he said simply. "Hagrid's our friend and we can help him so we should."

Hermione was suddenly nearly overcome with the urge to hug him again like she had when they had made up. The memory made her feel uncomfortable. While she had been upset about Buckbeak, she was just so relieved that Ron had offered to help that she had lost control of her emotions. She had just missed him so much when they weren't talking. She had missed Harry as well, of course, but it was different with Ron somehow. For one Harry spoke to her a bit during their estrangement. For another Ron seemed to never want to speak to her again so it had shocked her when it was he who had volunteered to help. A nice shock, but a shock nonetheless.

"What? No reprimand for saying something is more important than homework?" Ron joked, eyebrows raised.

She gave him scathing look. "No, you're right. Friends are more important."

Ron flashed her a brilliant smile and clapped her on the back. "I knew me and Harry-"

"Harry and I."

"_Harry and I _were having a positive effect on you."

Hermione hit him gently with her book and went back to reading. After a few second she glanced back at Ron, who was reading again as well, still with that big smile on his face. He really does have a great smile, Hermione reflected.

Ron looked up at her and laughed. "Don't look so shocked. It was bound to happen eventually."

Hermione coughed and hid behind her book, not reading. She was shocked, but not because of what he said, but because of what he had done. In fact it was more to do with how she had reacted to it. When he had smiled at her she had felt as though she had missed a step going down the stairs. Her cheeks had heated up and her heart and thumped out of rhythm.

"I-I've left my-my other book in Gryffindor Tower," she stammered, standing up. "I'll j-just go and…"

She walked out of the library with the rest of her sentence unsaid and headed to her dormitory.

When did Ron smile start doing _that_? It was like when Lockhart had complimented her sonnet on '_Travels with Trolls_' but that was because she, foolishly she now knew, fancied him. This was Ron. She didn't fancy Ron. It was illogical. It was impractical. It was…

The truth.

Hermione lied down on her four poster bed and stared at the scarlet canopy above her. She fancied Ron. _Ron. _This wasn't happening. There had to be some other explanation. Maybe Ron was right, maybe she had gone mad from stress?

Hermione took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

She was a fourteen year old girl. It was normal for her to fancy boys. Her hormones were in full force so this was bound to happen sooner or later. It was pure, unlucky coincidence that it was Ron. It was just a phase and it would pass. It was just a phase.

Hermione breathed out. Reason and logic had been restored to the evening. One day she would look back at her over reaction and laugh, possibly with Ron. Ron, who would tell her a similar story of his teenage hormones making him fancy her…

Hermione felt a smile crawl onto her lips and hope skip through her chest. Her eyes snapped open, horrified. _It is just a phase_, she thought, _nothing more than a stupid, school girl crush. Ron Weasley is hardly the love of your life. It's just_ _a phase._

Hermione continued her mantra until she eventually fell into a fitful sleep, all thoughts of Arithmancy essays and Time Turners forgotten.


	3. Ron Notices She's A Girl In 5, 4, 3

_A/N: Thank you again to everyone who has reviewed/story alerted/favourited this story. It's nice to know people are enjoying this :) Special thanks go to InkTeardrops, who was not only my first reviewer ever, but my first repeat reviewer. In the grand scale of the world that is hardly an achievement but to me it means a lot, so thank you!_

_From here on out there's more hormones and shouting because things just weren't complicated enough…_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns everything Harry Potter and a fabulous collection of shoes._

**Ron Notices That Hermione Is A Girl In 5, 4, 3…**

(_Fixing the tadpole / The Fourth Champion's Sidekick / Someone else notices_)

Hermione stepped out of the fire place she had just arrived in and brushed the soot off her shoulders. Traveling by floo powder wasn't exactly pleasant but it wasn't nearly as bad as Harry had made it out to be.

"Hermione!" called Mrs Weasley as she pulled her into a hug. "It's lovely to see you again."

"You too, Mrs Weasley," she replied as Mr Weasley appeared in the fire place in a roar of emerald flames. "Thank you so much for having me."

"It's no trouble, dear." Mrs Weasley held her at arm's length and surveyed her critically. "Have you eaten yet? I could rustle up some bacon sandwiches if you were hungry?"

"I'm fine, thank you," Hermione said politely. "Mum made me dinner before I left."

"Yes, she showed me that wonderful machine," came Mr Weasley's voice from the hall as he hung his cloak up. "It was like our stove but it was powered by 'gas', I think she said. I'll have to try and get my hands-"

"Arthur Weasley, you will do nothing of the sort!" snapped Mrs Weasley, who was all of a sudden very stern. "You have got more than enough muggle rubbish as it is!"

"Hi, Hermione!"

Hermione turned around to see that Ginny Weasley had come into the sitting room.

"Hi, Ginny," she smiled back as Ginny started letting Crookshanks out of his basket. He shot out of it and ran into what Hermione assumed was the kitchen.

"Welcome to the Burrow! You're staying in my room," Ginny said, picking up Crookshanks' now empty cage. "C'mon, I'll show you where it is."

With Ginny's help Hermione started dragging her trunk up the stairs. Hermione took the time to look around her. It was nothing like her house. There weren't any light switches or electrical appliances and there was a pair of knitting needles making what looked like a scarf all by themselves in the corner. She climbed the stairs until the third floor where Ginny stopped and, panting slightly, opened the door. Hermione could see a large field out of the window. In the room itself was a bed with lilac sheets and a camp bed, which was clearly there for her use.

"Well, this is it," Ginny said twirling in a circle with her arms held out. "It's twice as big as Ron's, has a better view out of the window _and _has no ghoul living above it."

Hermione laughed. While she would never fully understand the motivation behind sibling rivalry she knew it was very important to those involved. "I love it, Ginny. As well as the rest of the house that I've seen."

Ginny snorted. "Really?"

Hermione nodded. "It just so…" she searched for the proper way to describe the homeliness of the Burrow. She had been there five minutes and felt completely comfortable there. Even Hogwarts hadn't been like that. "…Weasley."

"I'll take that as a compliment," laughed Ginny. "Hang on…" she added, heading towards the door. "RON!"

She waited for a few moments but there was no reply.

"Brothers," she muttered under her breath. "I'll sort your stuff out, just go on up."

"Are you sure?" asked Hermione.

"Yeah, top floor, can't miss it. It's the room that glows."

Hermione followed Ginny's directions and climbed the stairs. With each step she became slightly more nervous about seeing Ron. Since the revelation at the end of last term that she kind of fancied him she had been trying to keep those _temporary _feelings hidden to avoid embarrassment. As soon as he had invited her to stay over for the world cup she had been overly excited about seeing him. It had only been a few weeks since she had last seen him but she thought about him an inordinate amount during that time.

In fact in her mind she had built their reunion up so much that she half expected Ron to be in a Muggle suit to honour the occasion.

_It's just Ron_, she thought to herself as his bedroom door came into sight._ Just act normally. It's just a phase, no need to embarrass yourself over it. It is just a phase_.

With one final calming breath she knocked on the bedroom door and prepared herself to act as naturally as possible.

"Go away," came Ron's voice in reply. "I'm busy."

"Ron, it's me," replied Hermione, trying to ignore the tightness in her chest at the sound of his voice.

There was the sound of a chair being pulled back and a few footsteps before the door was flung open and Ron stood in the doorway, dressed in a battered looking t-shirt, too-short jeans and looking like perfection.

"Hey, Hermione," he said smiling and allowing her to step into the room. "How was the journey?"

Trying not to think about how much taller he suddenly was, Hermione offered a squeaky "fine" in response.

_Calm down_, she told herself. _He'll suspect something's up._

Hermione had been so preoccupied with Ron's appearance that at first she didn't notice the blinding colour that was pressing against her eyeballs. Every wall, the ceiling and the bedspread were covered in a violent shade of orange. She recognised the black insignia on the bedspread almost immediately as the Chudley Cannons logo. After all she had seen it almost every History of Magic lesson, doodled on Ron's notes. On the desk lay a piece of parchment covered in Ron's untidy writing and his caged owl that, according to his letters over the summer, had been named Pigwidgeon or Pig for short. Pig was twittering loudly and flapping against the bars of his cage.

"What do you think?" Ron asked. He tried to sound jovial but she could tell he was nervous about her opinion.

Ghastly? Garish? Slightly painful to look at?

"It's very you," she replied diplomatically.

Ron's face split into a wide grin. "I'm taking that as a compliment."

Hermione laughed along with him. Sometimes it amazed her how similar he and Ginny could be. Of course if she ever told either of them that she would possibly be cursed by both of them.

She sat down gingerly on his bed and he sat next to her and they caught up for a few minutes. Now she was talking to him the knot in Hermione's stomach loosened. She had over thought the entire thing. In fact nothing had changed between them. Well, Hermione suspected that three months ago she wouldn't have been fighting off a blush at the thought of sitting on Ron's bed but that was a small change really. It could be dealt with.

Curious to see whether Ginny had been right about her having the better view, Hermione glanced out of the window and saw that Ron had a glass tank filled with water on the window sill. She approached it and saw a single tadpole swimming around in it.

"Oh, yeah. He should really be a toad by now," said Ron sheepishly when he noticed what she was looking at. "Fred and George put something in the tank. It's been a tadpole for a year now."

Hermione studied the lonely tadpole for a moment, her brow knitted in concentration before thinking of a possible solution. "Hmm, I think I might have something to help with that."

She rummaged around in her bag that had some off her things in that she couldn't fit in her trunk because of all the extra books she would be taking to school this year. Eventually she found the small blue tube she had been looking for and pulled it out. Carefully she squeezed some of the cream out into the tank and waited for a moment while it mixed in with the water. She waited a minute and then watched as the tadpole suddenly started growing and sprouting limbs.

Hermione stood back and watched proudly as an awestruck Ron pulled a fully grown toad out of the tank and held it up.

"How-how did you- What did you do?" he stammered, looking at her, wide eyed.

"You're brothers couldn't have used magic because they're still underage so it must have been a potion of some kind," explained Hermione, twisting the cap back onto the tube in her hand. "Knowing them it was something from Zonko's-"

"Actually," interrupted Ron, "they're starting to make their own products now. They want to open a joke shop. Just don't mention it around mum."

Hermione stared at Ron, horror struck. The idea of the twins combining their appetite for destruction with their mischievous natures and being creative with it was a truly intimidating vision. "You do know that those two will cause the end of the world by next summer?"

Ron shrugged. "Just don't accept anything from them while you're here."

It was clear he thought the idea was amusing but was hiding it from her but boys will be boys.

"So what did they do to the tadpole?" he pressed as the toad, still in his hand, croaked.

"Well, it looked like it could've been something to stop the toad's natural development-"

"That's probably those antidotes to their products that their testing. Gits." Ron added under his breath.

"So I just added something that sped the growth process up to counteract it," Hermione finished simply.

"And you just carry stuff like that around with you?" asked Ron in disbelief. "What was that stuff anyway?"

"Ms Marble's thirty second pimple remover."

"Ms Marble's thirty second pimple remover?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She had enough of spoon feeding Ron information at school.

"Yes, it works by speeding up the development of a spot so that it dries up after thirty seconds and not three days," she explained slowly.

"But why have you got that stuff?" asked Ron perplexed.

"Why do you think, Ron?" she countered trying desperately not to roll her eyes again.

"But you don't have any spots."

Sometimes she swore his was thick on purpose.

"And why do you think that is?" she sighed, holding the tube up.

"Oh."

Hermione distracted herself from the awkward silence that followed by putting the cream back in her bag. Meanwhile Ron emptied most of the water in the tank out of his window and placed a large rock in it before carefully lowering the toad back in. Hermione watched him as he did so and tried to stop thinking about being alone with him in his bedroom. The sooner this phase passed the better, she thought.

Behind her the door suddenly crashed open and Ginny walked in.

"Have you not heard of knocking?" growled Ron irritably.

"Nope," Ginny replied. "You two have been up here ages. What have been up to?"

"Nothing," Hermione blurted out automatically. She would've paid good money to stop her cheeks being the shade of pink they were currently turning. "Just talking. The usual. I fixed his tadpole."

Ginny eyed her suspiciously. "You… fixed his tadpole?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah," said Ron happily. "Look!" He pointed to the toad at the window, completely unaware of the smirk spreading across his sister's face. Hermione tried to keep her face as neutral as possible.

"Well, I'm sure he and Pig will be very happy together," she said, clearly holding back a laugh. "Anyway, Mum says she has made bacon sandwiches for tea."

Ron's face lit up. "I'll be down in a minute."

Ginny gave Hermione a sly smile before leaving the room. Hermione turned around to see Ron bent over his desk searching for an envelope. Her eyes dropped to his backside and then snapped back up to the back of his head. A few seconds later Ron thankfully had straightened up and was taking Pig out of his cage.

"Take this to Harry, pronto," he said seriously to the owl before opening the window. After a couple of laps around the room the little owl zoomed out into the night.

As Hermione followed Ron back down the stairs to the kitchen she realised she couldn't become a mess every time someone mentioned her and Ron in the same sentence and she most definitely couldn't just _ogle _him all of the time. Yes, unless she wanted everyone to know about the unfortunate way her hormones were currently making her feel then she was going to have to control herself. It would only be for a couple more weeks tops and then she could go back to having a normal, comfortable friendship with Ron. Until then she would just have to fight the urge to touch him or stare at him or lick off that bit of ketchup that he had just dripped onto his chin…

Yes. She would have to learn to control herself.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

"Ron! RON!"

Ron stopped walking reluctantly and turned around. He was halfway to the Great Hall and had hoped to get there without speaking to anyone. Unfortunately Hermione had caught up with him. She was going to want to talk about Harry, like Dean and Seamus and every other bloody person in this place and he wasn't in the mood.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" she questioned, a bit hurt. She looked around. "Where's Harry?"

Ron scowled and started walking again, Hermione jogging to catch up.

"Ron, what's wrong?" she said.

He didn't answer. He had the feeling Hermione wouldn't understand why Harry not letting him in on the secret had upset him so much. He only got a few steps further when Hermione grabbed his elbow to hold him back. She took one look at his face and frowned at him.

"Tell me you haven't had a fight," she said quietly. Ron stared at her. How did she always know? There was no point keeping it from her, she was going to find out eventually. Unfortunately the words seemed to be stuck in his throat. It didn't matter because the truth seemed to written all over his face.

"Oh, for goodness sake," Hermione snapped. "What about?"

Ron tried again to explain. He could feel himself getting irrationally angry but couldn't stop it.

"Maybe because he worked out how to get past that age line without telling me?" he growled. "Just because he's Harry-bloody-Potter doesn't mean he can do whatever he wants!"

Hermione looked as though Ron had just slapped her.

"You cannot be serious," she said in a dangerously low voice.

Of course, Hermione was going to take Harry's side. She was probably impressed that he had read a book to work out how to do it. In fact she possibly leant him the book…

"Did he tell you that he'd put his name in the Goblet?" he asked, disregarding her words entirely.

"No, because he didn't put his name in!" Hermione half-yelled at him.

Ron snorted. "So how do you explain how his name got in there, Hermione?" he asked viciously. "Was it already in there before the tournament? Did his hand slip? Is there another Harry Potter at Hogwarts?"

Hermione gave him a cold stare and was breathing heavily through her nose to stop herself from starting a full-on row. Ron glared back at her. He felt like having an argument and wanted Hermione to see sense. He didn't care if people were watching them.

"You are his _best friend_-" she hissed.

"Supposedly."

"How can you for _one second _doubt him?" Hermione looked around at the crowd and lowered her voice. She was speaking through gritted teeth and looked furious with him. "You saw his face when his name came out; it was like he'd seen Snape wearing an 'I love Harry Potter' t-shirt!"

Ron scowled at the floor. She had a point but he wasn't going to tell her that.

"Yeah, so he's a good liar," he said dismissively. "He probably loves the idea of 'I love Harry Potter' t-shirts anyway. He's only doing this for the attention-"

"HOW CAN YOU SAY THAT?" Hermione shouted and several people in the corridor jumped. "When has Harry EVER wanted attention?"

"SO WHY DIDN'T HE TELL ME, HERMIONE?" he rounded on her. "HE WANTED THE GLORY FOR HIMSELF, SIMPLE AS!"

Ron turned on his heel, pushed passed the students gathered around him and Hermione and stormed off to breakfast. He was surprised to see Hermione had followed him. He was even more surprised when she fell into step next to him and walked with him silently to the Great Hall.

Looking around, Ron noticed people kept swivelling in their seats to see if Harry was with them as usual. This didn't help Ron's temper.

"Alright, Ron," called Lee Jordan from a couple of seats away. "Where's the champion, eh?"

Lee cowered at Ron's stony look and went back to his bacon.

Ron piled his plate up with food, not looking at Hermione, who had sat opposite him. Eventually, he glanced at her. She was regarding him with a strange expression. It was a look full of understanding and Ron readied himself for the imminent lecture.

"How're the Chudley Cannons doing?" Hermione said politely.

Ron gaped at her. If he hadn't seen her lips move he would've sworn he had imagined it.

"Wh-what?"

"The Chudley Cannons? How are they playing at the moment?" she repeated conversationally.

A piece of sausage fell off the end of Ron's fork but he didn't notice.

"You want to talk about Quidditch?" he asked, utterly bemused.

Hermione shrugged her shoulders and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"If you want to," she replied simply.

Ron continued staring at her. In their long friendship Hermione had never once initiated a conversation about Quidditch.

"Oh. Well, they're twelfth in the league at the minute," he said slowly.

"Is that good?" Hermione queried. She hadn't put any breakfast on her plate and looked as though she was genuinely interested.

"Better than last year."

"How many teams are there again?"

Ron sighed. He loved the Cannons, he really did, but it was embarrassing sometimes.

"Thirteen."

"Oh."

"Wanderers are only at the bottom because they had a ridiculous amount points deducted off them over this massive scandal involving several ministry employees, a missing Quaffle and a fox. Don't ask," he added when Hermione looked confused.

Hermione grinned. Ron went back to his breakfast. He was used to him and Hermione going from an argument to being friends again pretty quickly but there was usually at least an hour of annoyed silence in the middle.

"Why do you support the Cannons?" Hermione inquired. "None of your family does."

Ron thought about his answer for a moment, while cutting up another sausage.

"Local team, I guess," he shrugged. "Bill and Charlie all supported the Wasps because they liked Bagman and they were old enough to remember him playing. Fred and George never seemed to settle on a team. I remember when I was about five Bill and Charlie wanted to go to a game but the Wasps' game was too far away so Dad took them to see the Cannons and brought me along with them."

He smiled as he remembered his first Quidditch game. He had seen his brothers play but it was nothing compared to that. Hermione's voice brought him back to the present day.

"Love at first sight then?" she asked smirking.

At this, Ron laughed.

"Not quite. They lost," he explained. "Badly, if I remember correctly…"

Ron remembered it like it was yesterday. They had lost four hundred and sixty to thirty but Hermione didn't need to know this.

"I don't know what it was but after that I was a huge fan and still am. No matter how hard they try and stop me," he finished smiling.

Hermione returned his smile and started piling up pieces of toast onto a napkin. He gave her an enquiring look. She suddenly looked nervous.

"I'm going to find Harry," she said in a voice of forced calm. "I doubt he'll want to come in here."

She stared at him for a few moments while Ron busied himself with his breakfast.

"I want you to come with me and get this sorted."

Ron heard her but pretended he hadn't. He had forgotten about Harry and that stupid tournament but now he was aware that he could hear several groups of students around the hall talking about the previous night's events. He forcefully stabbed a hash brown with his fork.

"Fine," he heard Hermione say calmly. "But this won't just go away, Ron. Harry needs you, more now than ever."

She got up and walked out of the hall, toast in hand. Ron lifted his head and watched her walk away. Everyone was obsessed with Harry and this bloody Goblet of Fire and he was already sick of it. All he had heard this morning was "Where's Harry?" and "How's Harry doing?" All they cared about was Harry stupid Potter's latest adventure. Well, except Hermione, he thought. She had still taken the time to talk to him, and not about Harry, but his Quidditch team of all things. When he had woken up he had been in a foul mood but now it wasn't so bad.

Hermione was alright, really, he thought still staring after her. He was so engrossed in his thoughts he didn't even notice Fleur Delacour walk right past him.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

Hermione was making the familiar trek from the library to the Gryffindor Common room on her own, with several heavy volumes in her arms. She was almost at the portrait hole. Normally by this point in the journey her arms would be aching but today she didn't seem to notice.

"Password?"

Hermione started at the sound of the Fat Lady's voice. She looked at Hermione expectedly but she couldn't think of the password.

"Oh. Erm… Oh yes, Balderdash!" she said eventually.

The Fat Lady raised her eyebrows. "Someone certainly looks a bit flustered and I doubt it's over homework."

Ignoring her comments, Hermione scrambled through the portrait hole. She needed to tell somebody. She needed to stop people ever finding out. It was a very difficult situation. Soon she spotted Ron and Harry playing exploding snap with the twins by the window and started making her way over but stopped almost immediately. She couldn't be near the twins; they would know something was up and would try and get it out of her. Harry was trustworthy enough but Hermione was certain that he would be of no use. He was woefully stupid when it came to these matters.

Ron was also with them. She didn't want Ron to know. In fact, she didn't really want to see or speak to Ron right now.

It was then that Hermione spotted Ginny in the far corner reading. Hermione hesitated for a moment. While she considered Ginny a friend, she didn't know if they were close enough for this level of secret. Although they were relatively close, especially after the World Cup, and she had given Ginny advice about Harry. Surely she wouldn't mind returning the favour? Besides, Hermione needed to tell _someone _before she exploded.

"Ginny, c-can I talk to you?"

"Yeah, of course you can," Ginny replied, putting down her book. She looked up at Hermione and suddenly looked very worried. "What's happened? Are you ok? You look-"

"Someone just asked me to the Yule Ball," Hermione blurted out as she sat down, unable to keep it in any longer.

Ginny's face broke into a huge smile. "That's brilliant, Hermione! Who?"

Hermione swallowed and she felt her already flushed face heat up again. She tried to speak but found that she couldn't.

"Hermione? Who was it?" pushed Ginny.

"You won't believe me."

Ginny sat back in her chair and gave Hermione a searching look. "Oh, I think I will."

Hermione laughed shakily. "I seriously doubt that."

"Go on then," said Ginny. "Try me."

Hermione took a deep breath. There was no point keeping it a complete secret; the whole school would find out soon enough. Her insides tightened at the thought.

"Viktor Krum."

If it weren't for the shock still coursing through her veins Hermione would've found Ginny's reaction hilarious. Whatever name she had been expecting, it wasn't that one.

"V-Viktor Krum?"

Hermione nodded.

"Internationally famous Quidditch star and Durmstrang champion, Viktor Krum."

"Yes."

There was a short pause.

"_The _Viktor Kr-"

"Yes, Ginny!" snapped Hermione. Hearing the name repeated was doing nothing for her nerves.

Ginny was staring at Hermione like she had announced she was dropping out of Hogwarts to pursue a career as a Rita Skeeter's assistant.

"What happened?" she asked in awe.

Hermione relayed the story of the past half hour to her. She had been trying to ignore the usual crowd of idiots hanging around the library trying to see Viktor Krum when he had slowly made his way over to her while pretending to look at the books. Eventually he reached her table and she heard him cough nervously. Slightly annoyed at being disturbed, Hermione had looked up at him. He had introduced himself (although, thanks to Ron and his fan club, she was already well aware of who he was). Hermione had noticed his dark brown eyes were not as surly as they seemed from afar. In fact, at that moment they had seemed nervous. It was as she noticed how he had a faint shadow along his jawline that he had said that she was very beautiful and asked if she would like to attend the Yule Ball with him. At that point Hermione lost track of what was going on in the rest of library so she didn't hear the gasps of shock and, in one girl's case, tears coming from behind the nearest stack of books.

"What did you say?" she whispered, still goggling at Hermione.

"When?" asked Hermione, bemused.

Ginny waved her hands around as though she so frustrated with Hermione she could no longer form words.

"Oh! I erm… I said yes." Hermione became certain you could make toast by holding a piece of bread 3 feet away from her face.

"Oh my- but- but what about… you know…" Ginny said, giving Hermione a significant look.

"About?"

"Ro- well, anybody else?" Ginny finished delicately.

Hermione stared at her. She had caught the start of Ginny's sentence and was slightly worried about what she was originally going to say.

"Nobody else has asked me," she replied plainly.

"Yeah, but," Ginny continued, looking a bit uncomfortable, "Isn't there anybody else you would like to go with?"

Straight away Ron's smiling face popped into her mind but she batted it away. Ron hadn't asked her. Ron was never going to ask her. She didn't want him to ask her anyway. Let him take whatever air-headed bimbo with a perfectly central nose will have him and he can spend the night ogling her chest while she witters on about the Weird Sisters' saxophonist's hair while he-

"Hermione?" Ginny's voice broke through Hermione's inner monologue.

"No," Hermione said in a clipped voice. "No one else."

Ginny raised her eyebrows and glanced over at the window, where Harry and her brothers were sat. There was a knowing look in her eyes that Hermione found very disconcerting.

"If you say so."

"Ginny, what do you-"

BANG!

Hermione span around in her chair to see Ron swearing loudly and feeling the place where his left eyebrow used to be, while the twins and Harry roared with laughter. She couldn't help but join in with them. When Hermione turned around again Ginny was giving her a look that clearly told her she knew at least something about Hermione's feelings about her brother. This scared Hermione a bit. Even she wasn't sure about her feelings for Ron.

But Ron didn't matter now. She was going with Viktor Krum, who was polite, considerate and handsome in his own way. Unlike some other boys she could think of, he wasn't obnoxious, stubborn, shallow and missing his left eyebrow. As Hermione pulled out her Transfiguration book, she couldn't help wonder if this was a good thing or not.


	4. How The Cookie Krumbles

_A/N: Thanks as ever to everyone who has reviewed/story alerted/favourited this story. You people make me smile even though I live in a world of essays, freak hailstorms and pigeons/seagulls attacking my window at the crack of dawn. I am eternally grateful. _

_Also I just discovered you can see how many people have visited your story (leave me alone. I'm new) and I was astounded to see that the first 3 chapters of this have been seen by nearly 600 people. 2 weeks ago this was a word document, hidden on my hard-drive, that I never wanted anyone to read. Now, 600 people have read it and, as far as I know, have enjoyed it, so thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this. You too counteract the kamikaze birds._

_A/N 2: With this story I wanted to write the main points of the R/Hr story but avoiding the obvious overdone parts, such as the Yule Ball. However, some parts are overdone because they are so essential to the R/Hr story that I couldn't avoid them... such as the Yule Ball. When this happened I tried to write something I haven't read before but I'm sorry if you have. _

_Apologies for Viktor Krum's dialogue and the huge A/N._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I have long stopped being jealous of this. Sort of._

* * *

**How The Cookie Krumbles**

(_Food for thought / While Rita was scooping / The argument_)

Ron was angry. He sat down heavily next to Padma, who was talking energetically about something but he wasn't listening. There was a bubbling sensation in his chest and he wanted to throttle something but he wasn't sure why. He did, however, know _who _was to blame_._

He could see her, out of the corner of his eye, up at the top table. He knew that one day this was going to happen, his two best friends moving onto better things, but he didn't expect it to hurt this badly. Actually, when Ron thought about it, he wasn't too bothered about them both being on the main table. Ron knew Harry had been dreading tonight almost as much as he had and the idea of dancing in front of everyone was repulsive. So if he wasn't jealous of Harry then why was this acid pumping through his veins?

Something prodded him in the side and he turned round to see Padma shooting daggers at him.

"You haven't been listening to me, have you?" she hissed.

"Um… sorry."

Ron wasn't sorry at all. He didn't even know this girl, who cared if her nose was in the middle of her face. In fact, she was quite pretty. Ron stared at his empty plate and wondered why he didn't care how pretty the girl he was currently on a date with was.

"Ron? You can order y'know?"

He looked up at the sound of Ginny's voice and noticed for the first time who he was sharing a table with. Next to Padma, sat Lavender Brown and her date, Seamus, and next to them sat Neville and Ginny. To his left sat Dean and a kind looking girl Ron recognised as a Hufflepuff he had never spoken to. All of them had food in front of them.

"I'm not really that hungry," he shot back at her.

"Are you ill?" laughed Seamus, cutting up his steak.

"No, I'm fine," snapped Ron. Although maybe he was ill, he thought as he reluctantly picked up his menu. It would explain why he felt all… strange.

"Ron, the last time you weren't hungry was…" Ginny broke off and thoughtfully tapped her chin. "Actually you've never not been hungry. I wouldn't be surprised if you ate in your sleep."

Everyone at the table laughed and Ron scowled as he picked the first thing he saw on the menu.

"Pork chops."

Ron began half-heartedly cutting up his chops while the conversation started around him. Everyone seemed really excited by the decorations and other people's dress robes but Ron couldn't care less. The whole thing was stupid. Dancing was stupid. Dress robes, especially his own, were stupid. All the stupid frost and stupid ivy decorations were stupid. Suddenly, Ron realised that he had been stabbing his roast potatoes with such venom they now resembled trampled marshmallows.

Every so often Padma would try and talk to him but Ron would only give monosyllabic responses or just grunt. In the end, she gave up and started talking to Lavender, giving Ron time to think about his terrible mood.

Up at the teachers table he could make out Krum in profile. His nose was even more hooked than usual. Why did he have to lean so close to the person he was talking to? Was he so thick he couldn't understand English unless he was two inches away from the other persons face? The git started laughing and leant back slightly so Ron could see who he was talking to. Ron averted his eyes back to his plate, wishing he knew what the joke was. Probably something too intelligent for him to understand…

Why didn't he notice what an idiot Krum was before? Catching the snitch when you're a hundred and sixty points behind? Even Ron knew that was a dumb thing to do. Plus, Ron could walk properly. Seriously, how hard was it to stand up straight? Just because he was _famous_ doesn't mean-

"-shocked by Hermione Granger! Weren't you?"

Lavender's voice cut through Ron's defamation of Viktor Krum's character, appearance and general aura.

"Totally!" replied Padma next to him. "I had no idea she even knew Krum."

Hearing Hermione's name made his lungs contract. For the past twenty minutes, he had been avoiding thinking about her and the two girls next to him weren't helping. Unfortunately, it wasn't just them who found one of his best friends fascinating.

"Yeah, you kept that one quiet, Weasley," said Seamus.

"I didn't know," mumbled Ron, prodding his vegetables. Why he still had his cutlery in his hands was beyond him. He had no intention of eating the rest of his meal when he felt so sick.

"But I thought you and Hermione were really close," asked Padma, with a slight frown.

"We are! She just…" Ron faltered. All those times she spent with him when he was being an idiot about Harry had meant a lot to him. While he had missed Harry more than he would ever admit it, had been nice spending time alone with Hermione. Something about her always made him feel better about himself… Maybe it was how she always believed in him, even when no one else did. Ron really thought that the estrangement with Harry had brought them closer as friends, so why didn't she tell him about Krum?

"-just never told me who she was going with," he finished lamely.

Neville frowned at him. "I thought there were no secrets between you three."

Ron shrugged. The whole hall was becoming uncomfortably warm despite the winter-themed decorations.

"Oh, are you one of Harry Potter's friends?" Dean's date piped up. "Weren't you the ones who went in the Chamber of Secrets in first year? Well, my first year."

Everyone else at the table stared at the girl. They were all so used to Harry's presence in everyday life that they were all shocked to see someone so in awe of him.

"Erm… yeah." Ron glanced at Ginny and saw she was staring into her lap. It may have happened nearly two years ago but Ron knew Ginny still didn't like to talk about her first year at Hogwarts. "Anyway, let's not talk about that."

Ginny gave him a small smile that Ron couldn't return. He still felt nauseous.

An uncomfortable silence fell on the group that Ron had no intention of breaking. Talking could only lead to discussion on the one subject he was avoiding. Lavender, however, had other ideas. She decided to talk about the one thing about tonight she seemed most excited about – dress robes and how nice, or otherwise, everybody looked in them.

"Did you see Lisa Turpin?" she asked Padma. "I love that shade of red on her."

"I know," she replied enthusiastically. "Much nicer than Morag McDougal's. I tried to get her to do something else with her hair but she wouldn't listen and now look…"

"You should have seen Hermione in our dorm," laughed Lavender while Ron's insides turned to ice. "She spent _hours _on her hair."

"It really paid off though."

Ron gripped his fork with such pressure his knuckles turned white.

"She used that new Sleekeazy potion," Ginny chipped in. Lavender and Padma nodded in appreciation.

"What do you think of Hermione's hair, Ron?"

Ron's neck snapped up to look at his sister and the look of forced innocence on her face. Ron knew that look. It never meant good things were about to transpire. He shrugged in the hope Ginny wouldn't ask any more questions. He listened in to Seamus and Neville's conversation and heard them mention Quidditch, another topic Ron didn't want to think about.

Lavender laughed. "Oh, come on, Ron. It's a dramatic change! You must've noticed."

Ron had noticed. He just didn't want to talk about it. The girls wouldn't let it drop though and kept pestering him.

"It looks… weird," he finally relented.

They stared at him, open mouthed.

"Weird?" repeated Padma.

Ron swallowed before continuing. "Yeah. Normally it's all… big. Now it isn't. It's weird."

Padma and Lavender broke down in fits of giggles while Ginny looked at him with a curious expression.

"Why is that weird though?" she asked, a slight crease on her brow.

"I dunno," mumbled Ron, wishing the meal would end. Then he remembered that after food came dancing and changed his mind. "There's all that stuff on her face-"

"Make-up, Ron."

"-and heels… It's just not Hermione, is it?" he finished.

That was the problem. Hermione didn't look like Hermione. It was almost like she was tricking Krum. But Krum was older than her, a lot older, so surely he wouldn't fall for all of that. Unless she had done it to impress him, which was just pathetic really… Something wasn't right here…

"Is that good or bad though?" Ginny leant forward in her seat as she spoke. Ron really didn't like the look on her face. If everyone could just leave him alone for five minutes, he could work out this whole Hermione and Krum thing.

"I don't know, Ginny," snapped Ron. "It isn't like her."

"Yes," stated Ginny, clearly getting frustrated with him. "But why does that bother-"

"If all students could rise to allow for some slight furniture rearrangements," called Dumbledore from the high table, forcing Ginny to stop her interrogation.

As he stood up, Ron started playing with his frayed sleeve and allowed himself to look at the high table properly for the first time that evening. He could see Harry looking more scared than when he walked into the dragon's enclosure and had to bite back a laugh. With a wave of Dumbledore's wand, the table he was just sat at flew to the wall opposite him and a stage rose up along the other. The champions and their partners moved to the empty space created and Ron willingly looked at Hermione for the first time since the Entrance Hall.

Her blue dress robes swirled gracefully around her as she moved across the floor, her hair, for the first time in Ron's memory, staying in place. Ron dragged his eyes away from her small waist and found her face and felt all of his energy leave him. He had never seen her smiling so widely that her face lit up the entire room before. Maybe it was her new, shrunken teeth that caused her brown eyes to gleam like that? They turned on the spot and Ron saw Krum looking at her with an indecent amount of affection. He was three years older, surely this wasn't legal…

"Enjoying the view?" whispered Ginny to his left.

Ron shook his head so he could look away from the dancing couples. "What?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, a playful smile playing on her lips. "Hermione looks nice, doesn't she?"

"She looks different," muttered Ron defiantly.

Ginny laughed but was then led to the dance floor by Neville so she couldn't add anything else.

"Shall we dance?"

Ron turned around and saw Padma looking a bit disgruntled.

"Nah, I was going to get a drink first," he said and started heading the table that hundreds of butterbeer bottles had just appeared on.

"Oh, yes, I would like one, thank you for asking," huffed Padma from behind him.

What the hell was Hermione playing at? Keeping secrets? Dancing? Doing things to her hair? It wasn't like her. And where did Krum come into all of this? What could they possibly have in common? He was _eighteen _for a start and from some weird, foreign country. He liked Quidditch. He was from Durmstrang!

It was then that it hit Ron. The reason he was so angry with Krum and couldn't stop thinking about Hermione was more horrible than he could've possibly imagined. It couldn't possibly be true but there was no other explanation. It was so obvious… why hadn't Ron realised before?

Hermione was helping Krum with the second task in exchange for him joining spew.

Convinced that his aggressive attitude was now justified, Ron grabbed a bottle from the table and went and sat down at the back of the hall. He would have to keep an eye the situation and make sure nothing untoward happened. After all, he thought as he saw out the corner of his Padma throw herself into the chair next to him, what are friends for?

* * *

As Hermione stormed across the Great Hall, she could feel everybody's eyes on her. It had been like this all evening, people staring at her like she had blue hair or something. Normally she felt invisible but now it seemed like there was a spot light on her that she couldn't escape. She couldn't deny that she enjoyed it somewhat. The looks of shock were a little insulting but the compliments more than made up for it. For the first time in her life, Hermione felt like a girl, an object of desire. She finally had a glimpse into what it was like on the other side of the fence and while she knew it wasn't life changing and that she wouldn't wake up tomorrow shallow and conceited, she would always know that she was capable of causing these reactions.

In fact, the evening would have been perfect if it weren't for a certain person's reaction.

The reason people were looking at her now was that she was scarlet in the face, had her hands curled into fists and was marching towards the drinks table with fury pouring out of her. She had spent months trying to work out her feelings towards Ron and for the first time she had put this confusion behind her. She had a date and was having a brilliant time. In fact, she had barely thought about Ron. So of course this would be the moment Ron would choose to show an interest in his own, unique way – by insulting her.

Or maybe he wasn't showing an interest at all? Maybe Hermione was just the latest victim of Ron's over protective brother streak that she had seen occasionally? Either way, another delightful evening had been ruined by Ron Weasley and Hermione's inability to stop thinking about him.

As she reached the drinks table, she picked up two bottles of butterbeer and took a hearty swig from one, not caring what happened to her make-up.

"Fraternizing with the enemy…" she muttered under her breath, "I'll give him fraternizing with the-"

"Herm-own-ninny?"

Hermione spun around and saw Viktor looking at her in what could have been confusion. It was hard to tell with him.

"Viktor!" she exclaimed shrilly. "I got you a drink," she added, holding out the bottle to him.

"Thank you," Viktor replied, eyeing her suspiciously. "Are you alright?"

Hermione started nodding wildly and took another sip of her own drink. Knowing she must look crazy, she self-consciously started to straighten her dress robes so she didn't appear as flustered.

"Has something happened?" Viktor inquired, placing a hand on her shoulder. Hermione flinched at the contact - something that didn't go unnoticed.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," Hermione said. "I'm just- I have – I've just had a little disagreement with a friend. It's nothing to worry about."

Viktor glanced around at Harry and Ron, who were now talking to Percy, and then back at Hermione frowning. "They said something mean to you?"

The anger in his voice was evident.

"No, it's fine-" Hermione started.

"If they haff been disrespectful then I-"

"It's fine," Hermione interrupted. She gave Viktor's hand a placating squeeze. Yet again she found herself lamenting the egos that seemed to grip the male population. "Let's just go and dance."

Viktor complied and lead the way back to the dance floor, but not without flashing Harry a suspicious look. Hermione didn't mind; it meant that she could see what Ron was up to. By the looks of things, he was still wearing a sullen expression and was not enjoying his present company one bit. Without warning, Ron's eyes found hers and he glared at her and turned and said something in Harry' ear.

Anger once more started coursing through Hermione. How dare he be annoyed? If he didn't want her going with Viktor, he should have said something. He should have asked her to the ball. Admittedly, he did ask her but it was as though she was the default option. If all else fails, take Hermione. When Viktor had asked her she had felt special, wanted and Ron had no right to be angry.

When Viktor put his hand on her waist and started dancing again, Hermione didn't feel the same thrill as before her argument with Ron. Before, she had loved dancing and talking with Viktor. He was actually quite interesting, not at all like the persona he gave off to the press. He had told her how while he loved Quidditch, he hated the fame that had come with it.

As they moved passed an apologetic Neville and a now-limping Ginny, Hermione realised that she had taken Viktor's hand, something she had never done with either Harry or Ron despite being a lot closer to them. Now she thought about it, she could only think of a hand full of times that she had hugged either of them. Was it because when she was with them she became 'one of the boys' and such behaviour wasn't appropriate? Or was it more to do with the fact that Harry and Ron just didn't do outward signs of affection? If she had come to the ball with Ron would she have held his hand? Would he have danced as well as Viktor? Or would it have been horrid and awkward?

Now all Hermione could think about was, if Ron _had _asked her properly, what would she have said? Would she have told Viktor she had changed her mind? Would she have turned Ron down on principle? Would she have stared at him blankly, wondering what the person in front of her had done to the real Ron Weasley?

"You seem distracted."

"Hmm?"

Viktor sighed as they continued to twirl across the room. Hermione mentally shook herself. The 'What If's?' didn't matter. She was here with Viktor now. Besides, Ron was being an infuriating idiot at the moment.

"Do you haff something on your mind?" asked Viktor as he pulled Hermione slightly closer to him. From here she could make out the strange hazel outline to his dark eyes.

"Um… no," lied Hermione, attempting a smile. "I'm just thinking."

Viktor laughed, something that up until this point Hermione had never seen him do. It was a deep sound, quite unlike any laugh she had ever heard before.

"You are alvays thinking, Herm-own-ninny," he said softly. "That is vhy I asked you. Other girls tell me what they are thinking but you do not and I vanted to find out."

She could feel herself blushing beneath his gaze. Hermione had never really seen herself as some kind of mystery woman but apparently that is what Viktor thought if her. Half an hour ago, his mispronunciation of her name was a little annoying - now it was endearing; how couldn't it be surrounded by that compliment?

They were dancing a lot slower now. They weren't even really dancing anymore; just revolving gently in time to the music. In contrast, Hermione's heart was pounding faster than it ever had done. Hermione tried not to look too nervous as she smiled up at Viktor's face but she was finding it difficult. She may have been inexperienced but she wasn't stupid; she knew where this type of behaviour was going to lead her. The question was did she want to go there?

She was attracted to Viktor. He was interesting and intelligent. She had definitely enjoyed the time she had spent with him. Why shouldn't she let things take their natural course? Ron's face suddenly popped into her mind. At first, it wore that brilliant smile that lit up even the darkest dungeon but it quickly morphed into a scowl that kept saying "_He's from Durmstrang!_"

As they turned so that Hermione was facing the Entrance Hall, she saw Harry and Ron re-enter the Hall. Realising that Ron might see her in this position, she nearly pulled away before she reminded herself that she wasn't doing anything wrong. She was just dancing with the boy who had asked her out. Just because she fancied Ron, it didn't make it cheating. It _was _just a phase after all.

A reckless abandon mixed with a desire to get out of Ron's eye line took over Hermione and she leant forward so that her mouth was just by Viktor's ear.

"Shall we, erm, go for a walk?" she whispered, trying to stop her voice from shaking.

Viktor looked at her curiously so Hermione gave him a reassuring smile.

"You vant to go for a valk?" he asked with a slight frown. Hermione nodded so Viktor started heading towards the door with her hand in his.

Hermione quickly realised that the route he was taking would take them straight passed Ron and Harry, something she desperately wanted to avoid. She pulled Viktor around a set of tables, along a more indirect route to the Entrance Hall.

"Vhy are we going this vay?" Viktor asked her confused.

"Oh, I just thought it would be quicker," Hermione replied dismissively.

As they reached the large doors of the Great Hall, Hermione glanced back at her two best friends and it was with another surge of anger that she saw Ron's thunderous face scanning the dance floor, probably to check up on her. Fortunately for her, he hadn't noticed her leaving the ball.

The winter breeze coming in from outside caught Hermione unawares and she shivered slightly as she headed towards the front steps of the castle. She could just make out Roger Davies behind a bush with who she suspected was Fleur Delacour. Snape marched passed her and into the Great Hall as Viktor put an arm around her. Hermione stopped by the front door and turned to face him with a smile.

"I thought you vanted to valk?" questioned Viktor, his arm still draped around her shoulders.

"I think I just wanted some fresh air," Hermione shrugged. "I forgot it would be so cold."

"You think this is cold? In Bulgaria, this vould be summer veather!" laughed Viktor as he gently rubbed Hermione's arm.

"Summers over here are still fairly cold," Hermione reasoned and Viktor shook his head in disbelief.

Hermione grinned as she felt herself get warmer all of a sudden. It had been a while since either of them spoke but they were still looking at each. Stomach in knots, Hermione felt her smile slowly fade from her face as Viktor moved his hand to cup her cheek and move his face closer to hers.

"You're not quite like any girl I haff ever met before, Herm-own-ninny," he whispered as Hermione's eyes slide shut.

On the front steps of Hogwarts, surrounded by a beautiful garden and with soft music in the background, Viktor Krum kissed her. It was only a soft peck on the lips that lasted but a few seconds but really it was as perfect a first kiss as any girl could ask for.

When Hermione and Viktor made their way back to the ball, she found that she had no regrets and that just maybe the evening would be a success despite Ron's interference. It was then she realised a way the kiss could have been more perfect – if it had been with Ron and not in spite of him.

* * *

"Hey - Harry"*

Ron spun around at the sound of Cedric's call but hung back a bit. He wasn't really on speaking terms with the Hufflepuff. Harry answered him roughly, still obviously stung by Diggory asking out Cho before him. Ron empathised with him; he'd probably be pretty gutted if the same thing had happened to him.

Cedric looked like he wanted Harry for a private word so Ron slouched up the stairs, temporarily forgetting who had just stormed up them before him. His already sour mood mixed with the rejection of Diggory's snub and propelled him forward. By the time he had reached the top of the marble staircase, he had caught Hermione up thanks to his longer strides.

Hermione heard his footsteps and turned to see who it was. When she saw it was him, without Harry this time, she gave him a look dirtier than the one she had given him in the Entrance Hall.

"Go away, Ron," she said coldly, without looking at him. "I really am not in the mood to speak to you right now."

Undeterred by her tone, Ron quickened his step so that he was directly behind her.

"Why? Am I not good enough now?" he sneered. "Too used to hanging out with celebrities?"

"That is not what I said." Ron could tell she was barely keeping up the façade of calm. One comment and she had already taken a sharper tone with him and Ron smirked. He knew how to push her buttons until the cracks became wider. He knew exactly how to twist and bend her proper demeanour until it snapped and she would be reduced to something akin to the angry mess that he was currently becoming. Normally he would hold back; incurring the wrath of Hermione Granger was hardly something you did lightly. But tonight was different.

If he was going down, he was dragging her with him. It was her fault he felt all screwed up anyway.

"It's what you're thinking," Ron shot back. He was level with her now, as they marched up another staircase. She glared straight ahead, refusing to look at him. Knowing that she wouldn't be able to get away from him and that would only infuriate her more.

"Do not make this about me," she growled dangerously. "_You_ are the one who has been acting horribly all evening. _You_ are the one the problem."

Ron laughed harshly. This was so typical of her. Of course she had done nothing wrong, for she was Hermione Granger. She never did anything wrong. Ron, however, had spent the majority of the night writing a comprehensive list of things that she had gotten wrong that evening and he felt compelled to share it with her.

"Problem? _Problem_? Of course I've got a problem!"

"Really? What with?"

"Him."

Hermione glanced at him briefly. Ron saw the anger there but also the shock mingled in with it. She clearly hadn't expected that. Seconds later, she was back to not looking at him, composed as ever.

"And what, pray tell, has _He _done that has offended you so?" she questioned scathingly.

"He- I mean…" Ron spluttered. How could she not see what was so fundamentally wrong with every aspect of him? "You know!"

"No, Ron. I don't," she replied in a sweet voice that Ron found patronising. "Enlighten me, won't you?"

Ron looked around for inspiration but all he could see were paintings that appeared to be little more than blurs, due to the speed they were now travelling. His reasons, that were all but choking him in the Great Hall, had now abandoned him. As Hermione threw back a tapestry that hid a secret shortcut, one of Ron's main arguments came back to him.

"He- He's like five years older than you!" he said loudly, his voice echoing off the passageway. She couldn't argue with that.

"Three," Hermione said through gritted teeth. "He is _three_ years older than me."

Well, maybe she could.

"Exactly!" exclaimed Ron, unfazed. Her stupid facts and logic were not going to get her out of this one.

"I'm sorry, but what _exactly _does that prove?" she remarked coolly.

"He's too old for you," Ron replied automatically.

Hermione's already stony attitude became almost visibly harsher. "And since when have you been the judge of that?" she hissed at him.

"Since I'm your friend!"

She barked out a mirthless laugh. "Some friend." she spat. "I was having a lovely time with a lovely person, who you haven't even tried to be nice to, and you ruined it with ridiculous accusations!"

"So you're saying he is a better friend than me now?" Ron was on the verge of shouting now. He hoped a good row with Hermione would release the tension that had built up inside him but hearing her sing Krum's praises felt like a knife to the gut.

"No! Stop twisting my words and listen to what I'm actually saying!" shouted Hermione. "I know Viktor is older than me but he has been the perfect gentleman all evening-"

"I'm sure he has," Ron muttered in an undertone. It was so obvious what Krum was after. It just made him want to punch the git's stupid bird beak even more.

"This is what I'm talking about!" she snapped. "You've got this idiotic idea in your head that I'd let someone use me like that. I can look after myself, Ron." She had spat out his name like it was a disgusting swear word. It fuelled the already raging fire inside of his chest.

"You don't know what blokes are like, Hermione," explained Ron.

"Funny. Last time I checked I spent most of my time with _blokes!_" Hermione's voice was gradually rising in pitch with every word.

"Me and Harry are different. Most of them only want one thing!"

"And you think I'd give it to them?" she cried indignantly.

"No, I think he'd-"

"I don't want to hear what you think!" she shrieked, throwing her arms up in the air. Ron had never seen her look so angry. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know him!"

"Neither do you!" roared Ron.

Suddenly Hermione stopped and spun around outside of the portrait hole. Ron saw with some satisfaction that her hair was starting to fall out of place and frizz up. On some level, it felt like he was reclaiming her from Krum, bringing the real Hermione, his Hermione, back. Everything else about the sight in front of him however, would've been downright terrifying if Ron hadn't have been so angry.

Hermione's face was glowing red and her mouth was pressed into a thin line that even McGonagall would've been impressed with. Worst of all though were her eyes. Usually they were warm but now they were blazing and Ron could see his frustration and rage reflected back at him.

"What is this about, Ron? I mean, _really_ about?" Hermione's voice was shaking with quiet fury. "I get that you might feel protective of me but Viktor has done absolutely nothing wrong, and your reasons to hate him are becoming weaker by the second." She was breathing heavily as though trying to retain some control over her temper. "Why are you really annoyed?"

"Because- You- He-"

Ron stared at her. He had just spent the past fifteen minutes telling her why he was annoyed. He was about to tell her this, recap all of his perfectly valid reasons for him to object to her being within ten feet of Viktor Krum, but then he saw a flash of hurt on Hermione's features and found he couldn't.

Hermione screwed her face up and screamed "Fairy lights!" at the Fat Lady, who didn't seem too happy with her tone but swung forwards to admit her anyway.

Ron found as he watched Hermione scramble through the portrait hole, that he took no vindictive pleasure from pushing her like this but was powerless to stop now he had started. He felt almost like a bystander, witnessing a row to end all rows between two people he could barely recognise.

He crawled in after her, his hands now shaking with anger. This was not over. It wouldn't be until the grinding sensation in his chest had lessoned and Hermione admitted she had made a mistake. Although now Ron thought about it, he couldn't remember what that mistake was. It definitely existed though; why else would he be reacting like this?

"Don't walk away from me!" he roared, not registering how full the common room was.

Hermione was already halfway to the girl's stairs but she whipped around at the sound of his voice. Dozens of pairs of eyes were staring at them in shock but they may as well have been statues or trees for all they cared. Now they were facing each other, Ron and Hermione only had eyes for the other's bright, scarlet face and dangerous expressions.

"Then tell me why you have been so horrid!" she shrieked at him from across the room.

"Because you spent the whole night prancing about with some prick and ignoring your friends!" Ron bellowed.

If possible Hermione became angrier; all dignity, thoughts of house points and sense of propriety were thrown out of the window. Ron knew he was going to pay for pushing her to breaking point tomorrow but he didn't care. It was him, not Krum, that had her attention… that was causing this reaction…

"I came and spoke to you and you were rude to me!" she screamed. "What did you expect?"

"You shouldn't have gone with him!" Ron thundered. He had no idea where the words were coming from but he knew he was right. She should've gone with someone she knew and trusted and who wouldn't use or hurt her, someone like Harry. Hermione would've been safe with Harry. Well, maybe not Harry, given the whole thing with You Know Who but somebody like him. Someone who she was good friends with. Someone who would look after her. The problem was Ron couldn't think of anyone who was good enough to fit the description; not while he was busy shouting at Hermione any way.

Hermione glowered at him as if he had just slapped her around the face.

"Well, if you don't like it, you know what the solution is, don't you?"* she screamed.

"Oh yeah? What's that?"* he yelled back.

"Next time there's a ball, ask me before somebody else does, and not as a last resort!"*

Ron gaped at her retreating figure, in shock. How could the brightest witch of her age, the smartest person that he knew, be so stupid as to not notice how wrong she was?

* * *

*Line from Goblet of Fire, Chapter 23


	5. The One In Which Neither Are In Love

_A/N: As always, thanks to those people who are reviewing/alerting/favouriting. You're all marvelous._

_Again, apologies for the Krum-Talk. My only defense is that it isn't as bad as the Fleur-Talk you're going to have to endure in a few chapters time. Writing for either of them leaves my word doc covered in angry red lines that keep showing up, no matter how much I weep and plead for the laptop to understand that I really do know that 'want' isn't spelt with a 'V'._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter, made my childhood and stunted my ability to grow up. For this, I am eternally grateful._

* * *

**The One In Which Neither Are In Love**

(_Viktor's favourite / The task at hand / A vord vith Herm-own-ninny / Kissing Harry_)

Hermione walked quickly down the corridor wringing her hands. Even though Ron's legs were probably twice as long as hers he was struggling to keep up.

"Hermione, calm down," he huffed, sounding out of breath. "It's probably nothing."

"Nothing!" screeched Hermione. "Professor McGonagall wants to see us in her office and you think it's _nothing?_"

Her nerves were shot and she knew she was close to hyperventilating. Hermione Granger didn't get asked to see teachers in their offices, not even at her primary school when unexplainable things kept happening around her. In fact she was usually the one that requested such appointments. There was only one reason for Professor McGonagall wanting to see her and Ron and it involved both of them and Harry getting into a lot of trouble.

"If you go in there looking guilty then she is bound to shout at us," said Ron reasonably. "She doesn't know anything."

"Of course she does!" Hermione snapped. "We were blatantly helping him in the _library!_ Everybody could see us."

"I'm sure we'll be fine-"

"Harry is supposed to solve the clue on his own. We were helping him cheat," said Hermione shrilly. "He could get in a lot of trouble with the ministry. We could be expelled!"

Ron's eyes widened slightly but still he kept on with his annoying, laid back attitude to what was surely going to be one of the worst moments of her life. That one discrepancy in her first year aside, Hermione had never received a detention before and, while she had done plenty of things that would warrant her expulsion, she hadn't been caught so they didn't count. This was going to be a huge black mark on her record, the end of her dreams after Hogwarts, the ruination of everything she had spent the past three and a half years working for…She would never be made a prefect now. She probably wouldn't even be allowed to sit her OWLs, making her effectively unemployable…

"Hermione, please breathe. You're scaring me."

"Shut up, Ron."

Eventually they reached the office door and Hermione gulped. This was it. Hogwarts ended here. She raised her hand to knock but it froze halfway to the door.

"I can't do it," she fretted.

Ron sighed loudly, leant over her shoulder and knocked twice on the door. Hermione gave him a reproachful look before the door opened and they were surprised to see a confused looking Cho Chang letting them in. As Hermione looked around the room to see who else was in the room she nearly fainted. It was even more serious than she had thought.

Professor Dumbledore was there.

"Ah, Mr Weasley, Miss Granger!" he said happily from Professor McGonagall's side. She looked decidedly worried in contrast. "So glad you could join us."

Hermione nodded in response and tried to smile but her facial muscles weren't working correctly. While his presence was undoubtedly unnerving, Professor Dumbledore didn't seem to be angry. Plus if he was going to punish her and Ron it seemed strange that they were joined by Cho and a small blond girl that didn't even look old enough to attend Hogwarts.

"Now that you're all here I can explain what is going," Dumbledore said with a small smile. "There is no need to worry; none of you are in trouble or anything of that nature."

Hermione could sense Ron smirking at her so she avoided his eye. Her heart rate slowed down a bit. _She wasn't in trouble._

"Now, as you are surely aware, the second task is tomorrow. I am equally sure that none of you are aware of what the second task entails so Professor McGonagall will now explain it to you."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he noticed Hermione, Ron and Cho all shift awkwardly on the spot.

"The second task," announced McGonagall, unaware that most of her audience was trying to look surprised, "will consist of the four champions entering the lake and retrieving something from the Mervillage that lies at the bottom."

Hermione and Ron caught each other's gaze briefly. At least Harry was working towards the right goal.

"The 'something' the champion will have to retrieve is something that, according to the Goblet of Fire, the champion will miss the most." McGonagall now looked a little sick. Hermione looked around at the people gathered in the room and something her mind started to fall into place.

"The Goblet of Fire named you four as the things that the champions would sorely miss. You will effectively become the Merpeople's hostage but I can assure you that you will be in absolutely no danger," McGonagall finished.

Hermione looked at the four people in front of her. Cho looked at little flushed and more than a little pleased at the news; she was obviously Cedric's hostage. The small girl flicked her silvery hair over her shoulder in a way that only a relative of Fleur could pull off, which left her and Ron. Hermione frowned slightly. Why had Harry been given two hostages and Viktor been given no one? Unless… but surely not…

"But Professor," asked Ron also looking at the people gathered in the room. "Why has Harry got two hostages?"

Hermione could feel her cheeks burning. This wasn't happening. This couldn't be happening. Even if it was happening, then why was it happening with Ron, of all people, in the room?

"You are Potter's only hostage, Mr Weasley," answered McGonagall promptly.

Dumbledore then started to explain about how he would be putting them into an enchanted sleep and how he would be making sure that they could survive underwater for at least forty-eight hours as a precaution. Hermione however, was only half listening as she was watching Ron closely. She still caught most of what Dumbledore said of course, as she had perfected listening to teachers while slyly looking at Ron over the past few months.

At first Ron still looked confused and his eyebrows were furrowed as he looked around at everyone again. Then, slowly, Hermione saw comprehension dawn on his face and his eyes snapped to her. She stared at him for a moment trying to keep her face blank so she didn't betray any of the emotions that were currently swirling around inside of her to him.

Firstly, she was shocked. She and Viktor had only been seeing each other two months and they had both been so busy with work and the tournament that they had hardly spent any time together. She still didn't know if she felt anything more than friendship towards him and here she was, being announced in front of the entire school as a thing he would sorely miss. How could she be the thing he would miss the most when she couldn't even remember missing him once?

Then of course, as always, there was Ron. It had been ten months now since she started liking him and it only seemed to grow stronger every day. She had tried ignoring it, rationalising it and blaming it on things as inane as the lighting or her hormones but it was to no avail. She had to face the truth; it was not a phase. She genuinely fancied Ron.

The Yule Ball had swung it for her. She had a lovely time but spent the whole thing thinking about Ron, as much as she had tried not to. Even having a sort-of-boyfriend didn't stop her thinking about him. She always wondered if he ever thought of her the same way. His reaction at the Ball could have been a cover up for some kind of jealousy or it could have been the strange mix of irrational betrayal and over protective concern he claimed it was. She could just ask him but that would lead to a lot of awkward questions and besides, they didn't discuss the Yule Ball. Ever.

The next morning Hermione had gone down to the common room and found Ron waiting for her while Harry was still in the shower. Instead of the apology she expected or the explanation she craved, Ron had politely asked her how she slept. She had replied "fine" and returned the question. He had answered in a similarly polite manner and their fate was sealed; the Yule Ball had never happened so carry on as normal.

As Dumbledore's voice turned to static in the background, Hermione watched as in slow motion Ron's face passed through shock, into anger and then, surprisingly, settled on hurt. He tore his eyes away from her and stared at his trainers that were poking out of the bottom of his too short robes. Hermione wished she knew what he was thinking as he scowled and looked dejected, but Dumbledore had now finished his explanation and was asking if they had any questions.

"No?" Dumbledore said and then clapped his hands together. "Then we will put you into the enchanted sleep. Miss Chang, would you like to go first?"

Cho consented and she lay down on the cushioned stretcher Dumbledore had conjured. As Dumbledore waved his wand over her, gently whispering the spell under his breath, Hermione turned to look at Ron again. She offered him a small smile and he shrugged nonchalantly in return.

"Miss Granger, would you like to go next?" asked Dumbledore when he had checked that Cho was under. She nodded and lay down on the stretcher next to the now sleeping Cho. Just before Dumbledore started the spell Hermione looked at Ron for one last time and saw he was looking at anything except her with an unreadable expression on his face.

As Hermione felt the spell take hold and her eyelids became heavy, she wondered how she felt about Krum, how Ron felt about her and if she had been in Harry's position, which of the two boys' names would have come out of the Goblet of Fire for her?

* * *

"There's not a lot going on really."

"Nah. We've all gathered to watch Snape skulk around some bushes."

"Beats the second task I 'spose. Everybody! Come here! Look at this large body of water for two hours!"

Ron frowned as he listened to the sixth years' conversation in the row in front of him. While it may just be a large shrubbery to them, to him it was the fate of his best friend. Harry had been in the maze for nearly half an hour now and so far nothing had really happened, except the teachers continuously patrolling the outer hedges. While Ron was undoubtedly worried it was nothing compared to Hermione.

Hermione had spent the entire task twisting her fingers together in her lap and biting her lip. She had been like this all day but had tried to hide in front of Harry because she thought it would make him even more nervous. Ron could see her out of the corner of his eye leaning forward on her seat, trying to see into the maze.

"Hermione!" Ron said suddenly. Her head whipped around to face him and she jumped at the sudden noise. "Stop it! You're making me nervous."

"How can you not be nervous?" she snapped. Ron thought for a moment about saying something sarcastic but he knew she was just lashing out because she was so worked up.

"I am," he admitted. "But Harry will be ok. He mastered all of those spells we taught him and Dumbledore and all the other teachers are here."

Hermione glared at him, her contradicting retort almost visible on her lips, but then she turned back to face the maze. "I just want him out of there," she said almost inaudibly.

Agreeing with her completely, Ron faced forwards once more.

The seconds dragged by and the only movement was the small leaves of the maze swaying in the eerily slow breeze until suddenly a jet of red sparks shot out from the east side of the maze. Ron's heart plummeted as McGonagall and Moody slashed their wands across the air and the walls of the maze disappeared so they could rescue whoever sent up the sparks. As the maze closed up again after Moody, Ron became aware of a painful squeezing sensation in his right hand. He looked down and saw that Hermione had grabbed it in panic.

Ron snapped his head back up to see McGonagall emerging from the maze with what looked like Fleur Delacour on a stretcher. She shot blue sparks out of her wand towards the judges table and Bagman's amplified voice came roaring over the quidditch pitch.

"Miss Fleur Delacour of Beauxbaton's Academy has been forced to leave the task but don't worry folks, she is alright."

A collective sigh of relief was felt amongst the crowd and Ron heard Hermione utter "Thank goodness" under her breath. Ron himself felt the tension that had gripped him when he first saw the sparks leave him.

"It's ok," he whispered almost to himself. "It isn't him."

"I know," Hermione breathed next to him.

While he watched Madam Pomfrey and Madam Maxime attend to Fleur, who was now conscious but still sitting down, Ron noticed that Hermione was still holding his hand. The panic had subsided now and her grip wasn't as vice-like as it had been originally but it was still there, curled around his fingers. He was tempted to look at his lap and check he wasn't just imagining things but he didn't want to draw attention to it. If Hermione noticed what she was doing she'd be embarrassed, right? It was better that he just let her keep holding his hand. It wasn't like he minded all that much.

Unable to stop himself, Ron chanced a glance at Hermione. Her face was paler than usual making the soft freckles on her nose stand out more than usual. Her forehead was creased in a way that reminded Ron of exams. She always got so stressed over those things, like she had something to prove. Everybody knew that she was brilliant, why did she have to try and prove it to them? Saying that when she got the results back she never bragged about them and when she fretted like a maniac in anticipation of them she always seemed sincerely flustered so maybe she wasn't trying to prove it to everyone else. Maybe she was trying to prove it to herself. He'd have to ask her at some point.

A noise to his left caused his attention to snap back to the maze. He had been staring at Hermione when he should have been looking out for Harry. Hagrid passed by in front of their section of the stand and smiled up at them. Ron grinned back as best he could and tried to concentrate on the maze itself but he kept being distracted by Hermione.

He could just make her out in the periphery of his vision, still chewing on her bottom lip, like she always did when she was nervous. Ron watched her small mouth move for a minutes when he realised she wasn't doing it as frantically before. It was almost as if she had pulled her lip into her mouth out of habit more than worry. She certainly seemed calmer than she was before Fleur had been taken out of the running.

Slowly, Ron shifted back in his seat to get a better look at her. He didn't want to move too quickly or she'd notice and possibly stop holding his hand which, for some reason, he really didn't want to happen. From his new vantage point he could now see her face in profile pretty clearly, as well as a lot of bushy brown hair. Although any time he was anywhere near Hermione you could always see a lot of bushy brown hair. Ron watched as it blew slightly in the wind, as out of control as ever. When the breeze brushed passed him he could even smell her hair on it. It smelt clean and fruity. For a couple of minutes he sat there trying to work out the fruit he could smell when he saw Hermione's mouth open in shock and the whole crowd started to become restless.

Tearing his eyes away from Hermione again, Ron saw another set of red sparks soar into the air. This time the sparks came from the side of the maze furthest away from them so they couldn't see who had gone to rescue the champion, or indeed which champion it was that needed rescuing.

"Please not Harry," Hermione was chanting breathlessly. "Please don't be Harry, please…"

Fear bubbling uncomfortably inside of him, Ron clenched his jaw and saw a jet of burgundy sparks fly over to the judges table. What was taking them so long? Maybe Harry had gotten himself in trouble so bad even the teachers couldn't handle it? What if-

"The next retiree from the tournament," Ron heard Bagman say, "is Viktor Krum of Durmstrang Institute."

Hermione tensed and Ron turned to her to measure her reaction. A strange mixture of relief and panic was playing out across her features and Ron tried to decipher the meaning of it all. Personally he was thrilled; Harry was fine and Krum wasn't. Unfortunately Hermione seemed worried about Krum. Of course she was. After all he was _darling Vicky-_

"Krum has been given a clean bill of health by the medi-staff," came Bagman's voice again. "The Bulgarian Quidditch coach will be thrilled to hear that."

At his words Hermione nodded slightly as if accepting the news and her body slackened a bit. While relieved at hearing Vicky was ok, she didn't seem nearly as concerned for him as she was about Harry. Obviously she wasn't all that interested in the moron, Ron thought smugly. He felt a flicker of something like hope in his chest. He knew Krum was bad news; he was bound to end up hurting Hermione. Apparently Hermione was finally seeing sense.

"So that leaves just Mr Cedric Diggory and Mr Harry Potter competing for the Triwizard Cup! It's guaranteed Hogwarts victory," Bagman announced to great applause from most of the crowd. "The question is who will emerge victorious? Diggory, the favourite from the outset who has performed consistently throughout-"

A huge cheer came from a portion of the stands decked out in yellow and black.

"-or Potter, the underdog who has shocked us all with some truly amazing displays?"

The scarlet and gold clad horde that surrounded Ron automatically stood up, clapping and cheering at Bagman's words. On the other hand Hermione seemed to take as much comfort from these words as he did and remained seated. All this meant was that Harry was still in the maze, out of sight but not yet out of danger.

"This is getting ridiculous," muttered Hermione just over an hour later. In all the time that had passed since Krum's disqualification, there hadn't been a murmur from the maze. Every time McGonagall passed them on her way around she seemed more worried. Even Moody was acting strangely.

"Something's happened," said Hermione. "I just know it."

"No sparks have sent up," reasoned Ron through dry lips.

"It's too quiet." Hermione spoke as though she hadn't heard him. The look on her face was so familiar to Ron he nearly started laughing (the tension was obviously getting to him). It was the look she got when she was trying to solve something particularly complex; he could almost hear her brain working. Ron saw it every time she did her Arithmancy work. She always seemed to relish the challenge of dealing with those horrifying number charts that hurt Ron's head to think about.

She was scanning the edge of the maze with those soft brown eyes of hers, looking for something, _anything, _which would tell her what was going on. Ron joined her in her search and found Snape walking slowly passed the judges table, his black robes billowing out behind him. Just as Ron was about to ask Hermione what she thought was happening, Snape stopped suddenly and gripped his left forearm. Frowning, Ron stared at his stock still figure for a full ten seconds before Snape looked up at the judges table.

Intrigued, Ron nudged Hermione and pointed at the potions master who she then looked at with interest. When Ron looked back Snape was still staring up at the judges. Ron followed his gaze and saw that Karkaroff was hurriedly shifting past the others towards the stairs, while Madam Maxime was talking to Fleur, who still looked a little shaken. Fudge was sat on the end, looking as anxious as he always was in view of the public.

The person who caught Ron's attention however was Dumbledore. The headmaster had his eyes locked with Snape's below and was as unmoving. He moved his head quizzically to the side and Ron saw Snape give him a sharp nod in return. Dumbledore was still for a few moments before he lowered his head into his hands. Eventually, he stood up and made his way down to the maze, his face neutral as far as Ron could tell from this distance.

"What was that all about?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know."

They both watched as Snape walked passed them as he continued his patrol, his expression as unreadable as ever.

Although nothing had changed, the atmosphere was a lot more apprehensive than before. All of the teachers seemed more alert and on edge and there had been no sign of Harry or Cedric for nearly three hours. In all that time Ron had barely fidgeted in his seat and Hermione was still covering his hand with hers.

Ron knew it shouldn't be the main focus of his attention right now but he couldn't help it; he was taking some form of comfort from this bizarre display of affection from Hermione. She never held his hand when they watched Harry play Quidditch. Apart from the obvious increase in danger, how was this any different?

Unable to look at the unchanging maze in front of him, Ron went back to subtly observing Hermione. Her mouth was slightly open now and he could see her improved teeth. He should be used to them by now, she had had them like that for nearly eight months after all, but her smile always seemed to catch him off guard nowadays. It was only a little thing but it had made such a difference to her face. It was still Hermione of course but different somehow. It was definitely a positive change but Ron could never quite put his finger on the right adjective.

Giving up on trying to work out the mystery of her smile, Ron moved his inspection upwards to her eyes. At the moment they were wide and fearful, which annoyed him a bit. Normally they were much nicer, soft and kind, and they would almost flash when she laughed or had worked something out. When she was tired they would turn a slightly darker shade of brown that always reminded him of chocolate.

Tired and content Hermione was Ron's version of her but only partly for this reason. If she was too tired to do work and was in a good mood she was less likely to nag him to do his. He loved the way she would sleepily curl up on the sofas in the common room before sighing and heaving herself up to slowly make her way to bed. It was like she was finally taking down the front she showed the rest of the world, like she wasn't trying to impress anybody, she was just being Hermione Granger. Not the bookworm, not the know-it-all but Hermione Granger; the selfless girl who loved her friends and family and would stick up for what she believed in no matter who or what stood in her way. Only he and Harry ever saw her like that and Ron always felt privileged by this, to be her friend.

_Friend…_

A jolt of _something_ went through his system at the word.

"Ron?" Hermione's confused voice came, cutting through his musings. "Why are you staring at me?"

Before he could even begin to deny or explain anything there was a flurry of activity at the entrance to the maze. As the rows in front of them stood to get a better view, Ron and Hermione joined them and her hand finally fell away and returned to her side. Ron flexed his fingers that now felt slightly cold in the summer night's breeze as he towered over the crowd to see what was happening.

"Can you see?" Hermione asked, bobbing about on her tip-toes. "Is Harry there?"

Ron craned his neck in the hope that he would see. He could just make out a small group of teachers gathered around something. They moved slightly and through the gap Ron could see two people on the ground wearing Hogwarts robes.

"I think it's Harry and Cedric," Ron said, still trying to get a better few.

"Is he ok? What's going on?"

Dumbledore made his way to the middle of the circle and Ron saw the tell-tale shock of black hair.

"It's definitely Harry and he seems alright," muttered Ron. He carried on watching. Something didn't seem right. Why was Bagman not making an announcement? Why had Harry and Cedric arrived out of nowhere, together?

It was then that they heard it. A scream followed by hysterical shouts and cries into the night.

"He's dead!"

"Cedric Diggory is dead!"

"Diggory's dead!"

Ron turned to Hermione, her look of horror and shock surely reflected from his own expression.

As Ron looked back to the scene unfolding before his eyes he reached out and took Hermione's hand. It wasn't until she gave it a small squeeze that he realised what he had done but he didn't question his actions. What did it matter if it was mutual concern for a friend, a desire to have something physically hold him to the ground or something else that made him do it? Right now all he and Hermione were was helpless bystanders to an event much bigger and much more terrible than they could have ever predicted. Everything else would have to wait.

* * *

Hermione followed Viktor through the crowd that parted easily because of his celebrity status. She thought she heard Ron's voice but she wasn't sure if she had just imagined it or not. Annoyingly when she had thought about Viktor lately her thoughts seemed to be in Ron's voice; it was most distracting. As he grasped her hand to stop them getting separated Hermione threw a nervous glance back at Harry and Ron in the hope they couldn't see her. She knew what Viktor was going to ask her and she knew how she would respond. For once knowing the answer to a question was far from comforting to Hermione. What made matters worse is she had some extra credit comments that were probably not going to get her house points.

They reached the opposite side of the Entrance Hall when Viktor finally stopped and turned to look at her. To most he would probably look surly but over the few months she had known him Hermione could now distinguish his mood by the slight changes to his facial expressions. Right now he looked apprehensive.

"How haff you been, Herm-own-ninny?" he asked, letting her hand go.

"I've been, well, as good as expected really," Hermione replied. She tried to sound cheerful but the past month and been hard. Harry had crawled into his shell and, according to Ron, he was having nightmares. Hermione had wanted to get him to open up about it but Ron had stopped her, saying that Harry needed time. Plus if Harry had spoken about it to her what would she hear? The details of Cedric's death and Voldemort's rebirth were sure to be horrific and she didn't know if she could handle it.

She had confided in Ron that she thought she was failing Harry as a friend for not wanting to hear his story but he had awkwardly reassured her. "You're a great friend, Hermione," he had said, fidgeting in his seat. "Me being able to pass potions for the past four years proves that."

Viktor gave her a sad smile, knowing what was on her mind. He had been closer to Cedric than her after all.

"How is Harry doing vith all of this?" He looked at the place where Harry and Ron were standing but couldn't be seen through the other students.

Hermione sighed. "He'll be ok," she said also trying to see him through the crowd. "He's… he's a strong person."

She looked back at Viktor expecting to see the slight frown he always wore when she mentioned Harry but was surprised to see it wasn't there.

"Yes, he is," he nodded. "I vould not haff been able to do those tasks ven I vos his age."

Smiling at him, Hermione wondered when he had gotten over his unfounded suspicions. Between him and Ron she had spent the year surrounded by jealousy and she was beyond bored of it.

"You haff not given me a response about visiting me in the summer." Hermione turned back to face him. He was nervous again.

Hermione cleared her throat. This was it. The moment she had been dreading for a few weeks now but knew had to come.

"I-I know," she said in a small voice. "It was lovely of you to invite me, Viktor, but I'm going to have to say no."

They looked at each other for a moment. Hermione tried to look as sincere as she felt. His face was impassive.

"Sorry," she added as an afterthought. Viktor chuckled and shook his head.

"You do not haff to apologise, Herm-own-ninny-" Hermione winced internally. "-I understand."

Why did he have to be so understanding? At first Hermione had been flattered by how much of a gentleman he had been but now it just made her weary. Anyone else would want a reason surely? But this was how it was with Viktor, pleasant conversation, the occasional chaste kiss and a couple of slightly less-than chaste kisses. It was all very easy and lovely but there was something missing. There was no challenge, no push and pull, no excitement… She stopped herself when she realised which relationship fit the opposite of this description perfectly.

"No, Viktor, let me explain-"

"It is ok-"

"No, it isn't," she cut in. "You asked me at the end of February and it's now July. You deserve an explanation."

Viktor looked down. He obviously agreed but didn't want to say so for fear of seeming rude. This action, cemented in Hermione's mind that she had definitely made the right decision and this knowledge gave her the confidence she needed.

"You are a great person, Viktor," she began. He looked up. Somewhere in his dark eyes Hermione saw that he recognised her tone for what it was; the tone of someone trying to make bad news sound better. "You have always treated me with respect and even though I have left your invitation unanswered for months, you never pressured me to answer and I thank you for that.

"The reason it took so long is that I needed to think about- about how I felt about you. With everything going on with the tournament it was hard to do that but I know now."

Her face was growing warm and she could feel thousands of eyes on her, though in truth nobody was looking.

"I don't think I should go to Bulgaria because I-I think it would give the wrong impression," Hermione said quickly. "I just don't see you as any more than a friend and I know that isn't how you feel about me so I just don't think it would be a good idea."

Viktor took a deep breath and nodded solemnly.

"I haff been expecting this," he muttered.

"I'm sorry." Hermione clasped his hand and gave him a small smile. "I really do want us to stay friends. We could write to each other?"

"I vould like that." Hermione was pleased to see he was smiling "You haff nothing to be sorry for if that is how you feel."

"It is," said Hermione sadly, though she was quite happy he was taking this so graciously.

"There is one thing I vould like to know."

"Oh. What's that?" asked Hermione apprehensively. Whatever the question was it deserved an honest answer but Hermione was anxious as to what it might be.

Viktor took a deep breath. "Is there… anyvon else?"

"Anyone else wha- oh." Hermione ducked her head with embarrassment. She would swap that question for any other in the world. "Is this about Harry?" she asked, hoping to avoid answering directly.

It was Viktor's turn to look uncomfortable. "No. I know you are just friends, no matter vot that voman wrote, Harry told me-"

"You-you spoke to Harry about me?" Hermione narrowed her eyes. While neither had ever mentioned Viktor's obvious suspicions about Harry and hers relationship, Hermione had known they existed. However, she would never have suspected they were deep enough for him to discuss it with Harry.

"I know I shouldn't haff-"

"When?"

"The night that I vos attacked."

"That's why you were by the forest," hissed Hermione. "You didn't want to be over heard?"

Viktor nodded. "I am sorry I spoke to him. He seemed to think I vos… Vot is the vord?"

Paranoid? Over-imaginative? _Delusional?_

"Joking."

Hermione smiled at the thought of Harry being asked if he fancied her by Krum. His face was a vision of blind panic and incredulity. Reminding herself that she was supposed to be annoyed at Viktor's lack of trust and invasion into her privacy, Hermione glared at him. Viktor frowned and scratched his chin, a sure sign he felt awkward.

"I-I am sorry. I had no right. You spoke of him often and it made me vonder if…" He waved his hand as if to imply there was more to his sentence he couldn't bear to say.

"No. Harry and I are, have always been and will always be just good friends," Hermione stated firmly.

"I know that now," Viktor mumbled sadly. "It is just that you may have had feelings for somevon else and you are close to him. I shouldn't haff suspected you."

Guilt started to lap at Hermione. First she was dumping him and now she was lying to him. Accepting that liking Ron was not just a phase but a very real and very bewildering emotion had been the nail in Viktor's coffin. Admitting this to herself had been hard enough, admitting it to Viktor would be impossible.

Viktor looked over the crowd again and his heavy eyebrows knitted in thought.

"Your other friend is looking for you, Herm-own-ninny."

Stomach sinking, Hermione stood up on tip toes and caught a glimpse of red-hair bobbing up and down other the heads of the other students. Viktor wasn't stupid. If he saw Ron and thought he was jealous he might ask her how she felt about him. It was true that Hermione had spent the entire time she was with Viktor being careful not to mention Ron a lot as to not arose suspicion. In hindsight this is what probably led to extra mentioning's of Harry and Viktor being suspicious for different reasons.

"Yes, well we should probably go back to them," Hermione said, unable to keep the pitch of her voice in check. "Don't want them to worry."

Viktor smiled down at her. "I suppose you're correct. It vos nice talking to you, Herm-own-ninny."

"It was. I'll write to you over the summer."

"I vill look forvard to it." He sighed sadly and took Hermione's hand and gave it a small squeeze. "I hope you find the happiness you deserve. Vile I vish it could be vith me I do not bear you any hard feelings."

Hermione smiled and kissed him on cheek. Viktor let go of her hand and they began heading back across the hall towards the boy he had suspected of ruining his chances with Hermione and the one who actually had.

* * *

Ron watched Hermione as her eyes followed Harry's progress out of the train station. He was numbly aware of his mother fussing over Ginny a few feet away but he couldn't look away from Hermione.

Smiling sadly, Hermione turned to face him and Ron tried to rearrange his features into a neutral expression but she was too quick for him.

"What's that face for?" she asked, the smile falling off hers.

Ron shrugged. For one thing he didn't really know what expression he was trying to hide; he just knew it was a fairly ugly one. For another that gnawing sensation was back again. It was happening so often around Hermione nowadays that he was starting to suspect he was allergic to her.

Hermione looked a little hurt as she searched in vain for her parents.

"Mum and Dad must be stuck in traffic," she muttered.

Ron avoided looking at Hermione and started scuffing his trainer on the platform.

"Ron? Are you ok?" Hermione asked. "Is it- is it Cedric and everything else?"

Ron looked up and shook his head. While Cedric dying was undoubtedly horrible Ron felt somehow detached from it all. He had spent all his time since then looking after Harry and keeping him distracted from it. They never spoke about it except for a couple of nights ago, when he and Harry were the last two in the common room. Harry had told him the basics of what had happened in the graveyard. Ron had listened as Harry spoke to the crackling fire but had not said a word. It seemed Harry just needed to let him know the story, but no form of comfort. It was times like this that it became clear Harry's upbringing had had an effect on him. It saddened Ron to think what it was like for his friend for all those years.

"Well, why are you all moody all of a sudden?"

"I'm not moody!"

"Fine!" Hermione snapped and turned so she wasn't looking at him.

"Why did you kiss Harry?" Ron blurted out.

Hermione spun around, her arms folded. "Excuse me?"

"Why did you just kiss Harry? You've never done that before."

"I know I haven't."

"So why are you starting now," growled Ron, frustrated.

Hermione looked uncomfortable for a minute.

"I just- I just thought he might need cheering up."

Ron raised his eyebrows. Ever since he had related Harry's story to her he had to physically restrain Hermione from mothering him. He knew Harry wouldn't want that but Hermione had other ideas. "Is that what you do to everyone who's upset? Kiss them?" he spat dispassionately.

The thunderous look on Hermione's face told him he had crossed the invisible line between bickering and full-blown row.

"What are you suggesting, Ron?" she said in voice low voice of barely controlled anger.

"N-nothing…" Ron stuttered. He didn't know why he had started this in the first place. Why did it matter who Hermione kissed?

"Ron-"

"What about that Skeeter article? Now everyone is definitely going to think you and Harry are a couple!" Ron yelled, gesturing to the platform that was now half-empty.

Hermione gaped at him. "Only delusional idiots with nothing better to do than believe the lies of an inept reporter in a trashy magazine think Harry and I are together. I don't care what they think and neither should you!" she retorted.

Ron scoffed. "It's not just in a magazine if you start kissing the bloke in public, Hermione."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Ron," Hermione shouted. "It was one peck on the cheek!"

Ron's trainers were suddenly fascinating. He had the feeling that he may be over reacting but he couldn't quite bring himself to stop pushing his ever weaker point across.

"Are you jealous or something?" Hermione continued. She had built up a head of steam and wasn't ready to stop arguing yet. "Do you want a kiss on the cheek as well?"

Wide-eyed and dry mouthed, Ron's head snapped up to look at Hermione's reddening face.

"W-what?"

"Do you feel left out or something? Would you stop being such a baby if I were to kiss you?"

Ron stared at her. There was something alive crawling around in his belly and his head felt like it was on fire. Hermione continued glaring at him, breathing heavily. He tried not to look at her chest but was finding it surprisingly difficult. When the hell had they grown? And why was he still looking at them?

"Um… no," he mumbled. "It'd just be weird, wouldn't it?"

Hermione looked at him for a long time. Behind her eyes Ron could almost see the cogs and gears in her brilliant mind whirring at full speed and he swallowed nervously. There was nothing more terrifying in this world than Hermione in deep thought.

"Yeah, I guess it would," she said quietly, still giving Ron an unnerving searching look.

With the tension in the air gone and his body still feeling all light, Ron snorted with laughter for no real reason. He tried to hold it back but couldn't. Soon he was bent double and Hermione joined in. After a few minutes their nervous energy they had built up over the past few weeks was used up and Ron heard Hermione's mother calling her as she hurried onto the platform.

"Well, I'll see you soon I guess," said Ron with a smile.

"I'm sure you will."

On a whim Ron held out his hand, a grin still playing on his lips. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook it.

"Bye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Ron."

With one final smile Hermione turned to join her parents. Ron sighed as he watched her go, knowing he would miss more than he did last summer. He shook his head clear of this knowledge, picked up his trunk and started dragging it towards the rest of the Weasleys.

* * *

_A/N 2: Due to some technical issues (a potentially broken computer) I may not be able to update as often as I have been. Even if you don't hear from this story for a while, do not fret. I am alive and, more importantly, this story is not abandoned. In fact it has already been finished; I just can't get to the internet is all. Sorry and thank you for reading :)_

_In the mean time maybe you could have a look at my other stories? *cough* shameless plug *cough*. I feel cheap and dirty..._

_- HalfASlug_


	6. Separating From Harry

_A/N: I'm trying not to sound like a broken record here but thanks again to everyone who reviewed/story alerted/favourited after reading the last chapter. You made a girl on a stressful train journey smile when she really wanted to lie down in a dark room. Unfortunately, grinning for no discernible reason on a train will lead to the other passengers thinking you need a lie down in _padded_, dark room. You have been warned_

_So it's OotP time! *imaginary crowd in author's head cheers* For those of you who may wonder why 'Easily Pleased' has so little Ron in it - there are a few reasons, some of them literary and one that consists of my belief that the more Tonks in a story, the better. Unless it's a founders story. Then it's just weird._

**Warning:** This chapter contains half a swear word. I'm not sure if this needs a warning but I'd rather type this sentence than be shouted at by moderators.

_Disclaimer: I own Harry Potter. All of it. No joke. Come at me, Bloomsbury._

* * *

**Separating From Harry**

(_Easily Pleased / Prefect Party / We Never Argue_)

"Where is it you're going again?"

Hermione finished going over her list of things to pack and sighed. Her father had been asking her the same question since she had told them she would only be staying with them for little over a week after not seeing them in nine months. She had told them that You-Know-Who had returned but had been a bit sketchy about the details. In fact, she had informed them that he was back and kept it at that. They didn't need to know a Hogwarts student had been murdered or that one of her best friends had come extremely close to a similar fate.

Even without all of the facts, her parents knew about the blood-purity debate and most of Harry's past dealings with You-Know-Who and were therefore aware she would be in more danger than most. Naturally, her father wanted her safe and had been anxious when Hermione couldn't give him detailed answers to what he felt were basic questions.

"I'm staying with Ron's family," she explained for the third time that day.

"At his house?"

"I assume so," replied Hermione. In truth Ron hadn't been clear about where he was, just that it wasn't at the Burrow. When Hermione had written back asking why he was being so secretive he had told her he could put much in writing. This did nothing to calm her.

"Is his father coming to pick you up again?" Mr Granger inquired apprehensively. Last summer Mr Weasley had acted like a ravenous child in a chocolate factory who was being forced to stand still when he came via the floo network to take Hermione to the Burrow. In reality, he was a fully grown man in an average muggle dwelling so Mr Granger had been left with the impression Ron's father was rather odd.

"No, Ron said he was busy with work," said Hermione as her mother came into the living room. "It will be someone else."

"Who?"

Hermione stalled. She had no idea who was picking her up as Ron hadn't been sure either in his last letter.

"I'm sure it won't be a murderous drug addict, dear," laughed Mrs Granger, patting her husband on the back. "Please stop worrying."

Hermione smiled warmly at her mother for her lightening the tone but her father wasn't quite placated yet.

"This is nothing to joke about!" he exclaimed. "Apparently there _is _a murderer out there and I don't want to send my daughter off without knowing she is safe!"

Mrs Granger rolled her eyes. Hermione marvelled at how laid back she was being. She knew if she had been the parent in this situation her reaction would be much more akin to her fathers.

"She'll be with the Weasleys," Mrs Granger said soothingly. "They're nice people. Plus, if anything bad happens, they're all magical and there's what- six? Seven?"

"Nine," Hermione interjected.

"_Nine_ of them," repeated Mrs Granger. "They're like a wizard army or something! So relax."

Mr Granger frowned momentarily before letting his frustration go. He opened his mouth to say something when the three of them heard the doorbell ring. The Grangers all walked into the hallway, Hermione in the lead. She opened the front door and felt her mouth drop open in shock when she saw who was behind it.

"Professor Lupin!"

Lupin smiled as Hermione stepped back to allow him to come in. He was followed by a middle aged woman with mousey brown hair whom she didn't recognise.

"Hello, Hermione," he said pleasantly. "It's certainly nice to see you again. This is Nympha-"

"Lupin," growled the woman Hermione didn't know. Lupin sighed.

"This is Tonks. If you wish to use her Christian name she will likely curse you so I advise you strongly against it."

Unsure of whether he was joking or not, Hermione looked nervously at Tonks whose face was now plastered with a wide grin.

"Guessing you're the one and only Hermione Granger?" she asked.

Hermione nodded numbly.

"Well, it's nice to finally put a face to the stories," Tonks said, shaking Hermione's hand. Hermione wondered what stories Tonks was talking about and, more importantly, who had been telling them.

"All good I hope," inquired Mrs Granger with a wry smile on her face.

"Naturally," replied Lupin.

Hermione made quick introductions and her father did a double take at Lupin's name.

"You- you taught Hermione in her third year, yes?" Hermione froze. Her father knew her old professor was a werewolf and it had been hard enough to calm him down two years ago when she first told him. Actually meeting him was another thing entirely.

"Well, according to her grades you did a marvellous job," cut in Mrs Granger, leaning across her husband to shake Lupin's hand. While it had taken a while to get over the initial shock of it all, she had always been more accepting of the magical world and if Hermione had no problem with having a werewolf in the house, then neither did she.

Lupin laughed. "If I'd just sat in silence at my desk for a year Hermione would still have passed with flying colours."

Hermione flushed. She regularly received praise but she never got used to it.

A few minutes passed while small talk was made before Lupin glanced at the hall clock and cleared his throat. Tonks abruptly stopped laughing with Mrs Granger.

"Alright, alright. Don't get your wand in a knot," she chided, playfully hitting his shoulder. "It was lovely to meet the both of you but we are on quite a tight schedule so we should really be off."

Hermione gave her parents a tight hug each as they both kissed her on the cheek and then picked up her trunk. They all said their goodbyes and Hermione left with Lupin and Tonks, who tripped down the front step but caught herself before she reached the floor.

"I'm ok," she muttered.

"I suppose you're wondering where we're going?" Lupin asked Hermione, clearly trying not to laugh at Tonks' clumsiness.

"Yes. I know it's not the Burrow."

"You're right, as usual, Hermione," nodded Lupin as they turned out of Hermione's drive and started walking down her street. "We can't really talk about where we are going or why it was Tonks and I that collected you but it will all become clear soon enough, I promise."

Hermione nodded in response. Ron had told her bits and pieces about what was going on in the wizarding world and wasn't really surprised about the slightly strange circumstances she currently found herself in. She knew the Weasleys had vacated the Burrow, Bill had returned from Egypt, some kind of resistance to You-Know-Who was being formed despite Fudge's stubborn refusal to see what was happening right under his nose and that Percy had become estranged from his family after a heated row with Mr Weasley. Ron hadn't gone into details about the last part and she knew he was more upset than he was letting on.

As they walked, Hermione listened to Lupin and Tonks talk. Tonks was bubblier than her age would suggest while Lupin seemed to have aged a good few years since Hermione had last met him. His hair was flecked with more grey than brown and his clothes were more threadbare.

"Can I change back now?" whinged Tonks as they turned into a side street off the main road Hermione lived on. "I can actually feel myself aging. Any minute now I'm going to take up crocheting."

Lupin sighed and glanced around their surroundings to make sure no one else was around. The air was far too stuffy for people to be outside, even in the evening, so the street was deserted.

"Go on then," he said with a small smile. "Just remember one day that will be what you really look like."

Tonks threw Lupin a dirty look and then screwed her face up in concentration. Hermione gasped as her hair retracted into her skull and became bright, bubble-gum pink. The small lines on her face straightened out to reveal the heart-shaped face of a woman in her early twenties.

"Are you a Metamorphamagus?" squealed Hermione in excitement. She had read about them in a seventh year Transfiguration text book but had never actually met one before.

"Ten points to Gryffindor," smiled Lupin.

Tonks looked impressed at her knowing the term. "Knows her stuff this one does," she said, giving Hermione an appraising look.

"By the way, Tonks, why pink? I thought it was blue before," inquired Lupin when they came to a stop near a yellowing lawn.

Tonks shrugged and ruffled her new shorter hair. "Fancied a change. What do you think?"

"It's very… bright."

"Lupin…"

"It suits you."

"What does that even mean?"

"It looks lovely. Now can we get on with this?"

Tonks stuck her tongue out but looked pleased by Lupin's words nonetheless. She flung out her right hand and, with bang that Hermione was sure would smash the windows of the nearest houses, a purple triple-decker bus came into view.

"Is-is that the Knight Bus?" breathed Hermione, clutching her chest. "I know it's got Muggle-repelling charms on it but we're in the middle of the street and it's still daylight! In 1974 the bus was accused of breaking the statute of secrecy and -"

"Has she always been like this?" Tonks asked Lupin, eyeing Hermione with wonder. "Hogwarts has definitely improved since my day."

Lupin was saved the trouble of answering by a spotty youth who came bounding out onto the pavement with a piece of card in his hand.

"Welcome to-"

"Do we have to do this every time, Stan?" sighed Tonks, handing him a fistful of sickles. "Market Road, London please and no, I don't want a toothbrush."

The young man called Stan took the money and let the tree of them onto the bus looking a little stunned by how direct Tonks had been.

Settling herself down onto armchair on the first floor, Hermione looked out of the window to get one last look at her area when all of a sudden there was another loud bang. She was only saved from falling off her chair by grabbing the tiny window ledge next to her. Unfortunately, Tonks wasn't as quick and was now sprawled on the floor.

"You'd think I'd be used to this by now," she chuckled as Lupin helped her up. The Knight Bus was now hurtling down a country road that Hermione didn't recognise. Trees and hedges seemed to jump out of the way as they passed.

"I do wonder how on earth you managed to become an Auror sometimes," he joked, sitting back down.

"You're an Auror?" said Hermione, surprised.

"Why does no one ever believe me?" chuckled Tonks. "Yes, I am. And a half decent one despite what _some people _might say," she added, looking pointedly at Lupin, who held his hands up in defence.

"That's fascinating," breathed Hermione. "I guess being a Metamorphmagi helped with the Concealment and Disguise part of the training but it would still have been pretty hard to become an Auror. I mean, it's not exactly a free pass, is it? I know that Algol Algerave, the Auror who caught Golgum 'The Ghoul' Lithum in 1854, was a Metamorphmagi but apart from that-"

"Ron was right about you," Tonks interrupted, staring at Hermione like she had grown an extra head while she had been speaking.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione quickly while her stomach did an embarrassing flip-flop at the mention of Ron's name. Surely she should be used to hearing it by now?

"The other day when Tonks found out she was going to be one of the people collecting you she asked Ron about you," Lupin explained.

Ron had spoken about her?

"What- what did he say?" asked Hermione casually.

"Just stuff about how smart you are," Tonks replied with a shrug. The Knight Bus stopped suddenly by a beach and Lupin held onto a railing and Tonks chair so neither of them would fall. Hermione noticed it was almost dark outside.

What had she been expecting? Of course Ron hadn't said anything she hadn't heard before. Hermione knew that Ron thought she was smart; she heard him say so every time one of his essays was due in. Hermione Granger: Walking Homework Help, she thought sullenly.

"Nothing else?" Hermione asked hopefully.

Tonks shook her head. "Nah, just went on about that and you being in love with house-elves or something like that."

Hermione scowled. Hermione Granger: Walking Homework Help _and_ Elf Lover. Brilliant.

After half an hour of the bus constantly defying the laws of physics and Tonks nearly flying to the other end of the bus, Stan called out "Marke' Road, London" and Hermione, Lupin and Tonks got off.

Hermione looked at her surroundings. They were in a fairly run down area; she could see a grotty looking tube station at the end of the street. Before she could even begin to wonder what the Weasleys were doing in such a dodgy place, Lupin gently pulled her by the elbow towards the end of the street with the tube station.

"Our destination is a short walk away," Lupin whispered while Tonks searched the immediate are, her hand clenched in the pocket of her purple jacket. "All of this will be explained soon."

Hermione started feeling a little apprehensive as she walked with Lupin dragging her trunk in front of her while Tonks followed them. An hour ago she had been excited to see Ron and his family again (it may have been under two week since she had last seen them but all this stuff with You-Know-Who made her worry) and now she was in a strange area of London with her old Defence Against the Darks Arts teacher and an Auror. The whole situation put her on edge. Were the Weasleys in some kind of trouble?

After ten minutes they arrived at a small square, lined with old houses and Lupin passed Hermione a small roll of parchment and said "Read it and memorise it."

Brow furrowed, she followed his instructions. _The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place _was written in a thin, loopy script that Hermione didn't recognise. She looked up at the houses in front of her and saw that number eleven was sat right next to number thirteen. So where was number twelve? And what was the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, whatever that was?

As soon as she thought this, another house started to grow in front of her eyes, pushing away the houses on either side. Hermione jaw dropped and didn't even notice a smirking Tonks take the parchment from her hand and set fire to it with her wand.

"I don't think I'm ever going to be fully used to magic," she said weakly as Lupin hurriedly led her to the front door.

He tapped his wand on the lock and opened it. "Before you go in I should tell you to keep quiet in the hallway," he whispered and stepped over the threshold. Hermione followed him and received possibly the biggest shock of the evening. She had found herself face to face with Professor Snape.

"Severus," smiled Lupin, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

Snape gave him a contemptuous look. "Lupin. Oh, and Nymphadora, how nice to see you," he drawled in way that left it clear that he didn't take any pleasure from the chance meeting.

"Snape," she said, her jaw set.

Snape's black eyes found Hermione and he gave her a small smile that chilled her insides.

"Miss Granger."

"Professor."

While she didn't suffer the outright cruelty Harry and Neville endured at Snape's hands, Hermione definitely had it worse than most due to her annoying habit of getting everything right. Hermione knew he longed to one day find a fault in her work and she took a vindictive pleasure in making sure that day never came. Hermione stared back at Snape, unblinking. He was not going to intimidate her.

Snape swept passed them towards the door, only pausing when Lupin spoke to him. "Why don't you join us for dinner, Severus?"

Snape spun around and glared at Lupin, who seemed unfazed by his expression. His eyes flicked to Hermione before he answered. "I don't think so, Lupin," he hissed in a low voice. "You see, I've already read the _Standard Book of Spells: Grade Five_ so I do not wish to have it recited to me."

He gave Hermione one last condescending look, opened the door and marched into the night.

There was a short pause before Tonks spoke.

"What. A complete. Basta-"

"Hermione!" came an urgent whisper from halfway up the stairs behind them. Hermione turned on the spot to see a pair of long legs descending from the darkness of the upper landing.

"Ron!"

She bounded up the stairs as quietly as possible and gave him a quick hug that seemed to take him by surprise but he returned gingerly anyway.

"What is all of this?" she blurted out, no longer able to keep her questions to herself. "What is Snape doing here?"

Ron grinned down at her urgent tone. "I'll explain upstairs. C'mon."

Hermione waved goodbye to Lupin and Tonks who were making their way down to the basement and followed Ron. Eventually, he opened a door to a room slightly less musty and creepy than the other parts of the house she had passed on the way.

As soon as the door was closed, Hermione started with her questions again.

"What's going on? Where's Harry? What is the Order of the Phoenix? Why is there an Auror here? Is this Snape's house?"

Ron held up his hands to stop her talking and sat down one of the two beds in the room. By the looks of things it was the one he had been sleeping in.

"Firstly - breathe. It does you the world of good," he joked as she sat down next to him. "Secondly, I'm fine thanks, you?"

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I was just a bit… overwhelmed. I've got no idea what's going on."

"Well, to answer your questions – quite a lot but I don't know most of it, still at his aunt and uncles, a secret organisation set up by Dumbledore to fight You-Know-Who, there's usually a couple around actually and Merlin, no. Eurgh, can you imagine?" Ron pulled a face. "Slime everywhere and no shower…"

Hermione laughed and Ron went into more detail about the happenings of the past weeks, giving her all the details he couldn't put in writing. Percy storming out ("How could he say such awful things?"), the inner workings of the Order ("I don't expect Fred and George will be able to listen into meetings, although those ear things do sound quite clever.") and how there were not any plans yet for Harry to join them ("He is _not_ going to like that.")

After they had discussed ways they could persuade the adults to let Harry escape his relatives, Ron suddenly looked very serious. He stared at his knees and started playing with a hole in his duvet cover.

"Ron? What is it?" asked Hermione, concerned.

Ron met her eyes and gave her a searching look before continuing.

"It's just- I've been thinking. With all this You-Know-Who stuff going on Harry is in a fair bit of danger."

"For a change, you mean?" Hermione asked darkly.

"Well, even more than usual," Ron continued. Hermione was unnerved by his tone. When had his voice got so deep? "It- Well, you know what he's like. He's going to want to help the Order and fight-"

"But you said you had to be of age?"

"You do but I can't see that stopping Harry." Ron took a deep breath. "He is going to be dealing with a lot of stuff and it's probably going to involve stupid amounts of bravery and him being all mental and heroic and- and I'm sticking with him. Whatever happens."

Ron was staring at Hermione with such intensity she was sure he would burn a hole in her eyes. Here again was Ron's fierce loyalty, possibly his most endearing trait, something he always overlooked and that Hermione found compelling. Harry was facing untold horrors in the future, they all knew that, but Hermione knew that Ron would be right behind him. Whether from stupidity or courage Hermione didn't care, all she knew was where she would be when it happened.

"So will I," she said determinedly.

"Whatever happens?"

"Whatever happens."

Ron gave her a wide grin and stood up. "You're sharing a room with Ginny upstairs. Hang on, I'll go and tell her that you've arrived. Stay here."

As he left, Hermione felt her heart swell. She couldn't believe Ron had started to grow up at long last. He was easily six foot now and the little puppy fat he did have had long gone, making him seem even ganglier than before. His hair was slightly longer and it suited his less-rounded face. In fact in that moment he seemed pretty much perfect to Hermione, give or take a few frustrating personality traits that she was more than willing to overlook. So much for it being just a phase, she thought wryly. It was then that it hit her.

"I'm in love with him," she whispered out loud.

"_Gryffindors,_" sighed a bored voice in the corner. "So easily pleased."

"Hey!" Hermione shouted, standing up. While mortified at being over heard, even by what she realised was a portrait, she was still annoyed that her feelings were being mocked.

"Not to mention dramatic," drawled the man in the portrait as he sauntered passed the edge of his frame and out of sight.

Hermione stood in silence for a moment as her new found realisation washed over her. When it first dawned on her that she had feelings for Ron she had vehemently denied it to herself until she finally accepted that they wouldn't go away if she just ignored them. It was only now she realised that they had developed into something a lot deeper. Hermione half expected to be scared or elated but she wasn't. It felt perfectly natural to be in love with him; it was as if she had always known that one day one of her best friends would steal her heart. She felt a sudden urge to simply tell Ron next time she saw him.

There was a small problem with her plan. It was Ron she was in love with and, while he had definitely matured a bit over the past year, he was probably still far from being able to emotionally deal with a relationship. Then there was the whole mine field of what he actually felt about her.

No, Hermione thought as she heard two pairs of feet thundering down the stairs towards her, being in love with Ron Weasley was far from simple.

* * *

"Ok. So it's not as flashy a Nimbus," Ron admitted, taking another sip of Butterbeer, "but it's still a solid broom. It's not all about looks."

Tonks nodded vacantly. It seemed to take her a while before she noticed that Ron had stopped talking.

"Yeah, exactly," she added when Ron looked at her expectantly.

"Plus on this new model," Ron continued, "they've added this amazing new feature so that-"

"Is that Kingsley?" Tonks interrupted suddenly, pointing across the room. "I've got to speak to him about…auror stuff. Sorry."

A bit peeved at her rude departure, Ron frowned after Tonks as she raced quickly through the small crowd of people gathered in the kitchen. The party had only been going on for half an hour but Ron was already itching to rush back upstairs and examine his new broom again. It was so very rare in his life for him to get something new, even rarer for it to be something he actually wanted. Normally his stuff was second hand like his text books, necessary like quills and ink or hideous like his Christmas jumpers. Sometimes they were a mixture of all three; his old dress robes were the shining example there. Thank Merlin Fred and George had brought him new ones. They weren't even jinxed like he first suspected.

"Excited about the new broom then?"

Ron spun around and saw Hermione smirking at him from behind a Butterbeer and leaning against the kitchen table.

"Well, my old one is worse than a levitated twig, so yeah," he joked as he perched next to her.

They sat in silence for a few moments, sipping their drinks and looking at the other people gathered in the room. It felt weird for Ron for everybody to be throwing a party for him. Not just because it was his birthday but for something he had achieved. It reminded him of the parties in the Gryffindor common room after Harry had performed in the Triwizard Tournament or won a Quidditch match. Being a part of the party was great but being the reason for it was completely different. Ron found he quite liked it.

"You deserve it," Hermione said suddenly. "Not just the broom but the badge as well."

Ron snorted in disbelief and started playing with a loose thread on his jumper.

"What?" Hermione inquired.

"Nothing."

"No," she pushed, leaning forward to meet his eyes. "What?"

Ron looked at her puzzled expression and debated what he should tell her. He settled on the truth. Hermione had never been one to shoot him down or lie so it wasn't like she would laugh at him.

"Well, you thought it was going to be Harry," he eventually mumbled to the label on his butter beer. "Everybody did."

"No, I didn't-" she began, her cheeks turning faintly pink.

"Don't bother lying to me," he snapped. He had been honest with her. She could at least return the gesture.

"Fine," Hermione said primly, sitting up straighter. "I thought Harry would get it."

Ron's head snapped up to meet her eyes that were looking back at him defiantly. Maybe he didn't want her to be honest after all. He was much happier blaming everybody's shocked faces on his insecurities.

"But the more I think about it the more I realise Dumbledore made the right choice," Hermione continued, ignoring the look of shock plastered on Ron's features.

Ron considered her statement for a moment before snorting and taking a hearty swig of Butterbeer.

"Anything to prove a teacher's right with you," he muttered, eyes downcast once more.

"No," countered Hermione. She put her drink down and moved so that she was standing in front of him. Ron could feel her gaze but refused to look up. "Anything to show my best friend he isn't as worthless as he seems to think he is."

Against his wishes, Ron looked up at her. Why couldn't he keep his eyes off of her recently?

"What?" he spluttered. "I never said that."

Hermione rolled her eyes in way that was so familiar that Ron nearly smiled. Thankfully, he kept his head and was able to maintain the sullen frown he had been wearing since the beginning of the conversation.

"The person most shocked about you becoming a prefect was you," sighed Hermione, giving him a look too close to pity for his liking.

"Well, everybody else was shocked, weren't they?" he retorted defensively.

Hermione scrutinised him for what felt like a long time before looking around at the rest of the party. Ron followed her eye line and saw Harry talking to the twins. There was something about the look on their faces that Ron didn't like. They were looks of accomplishment and mischief and, on the twins, that never boded well.

"You're going to be a great prefect, Ron," came Hermione's voice, snapping Ron out of his thoughts. She was smiling at him now and Ron felt something do a somersault inside of him.

"Doubt it," he said in an undertone. "Can you imagine me standing up to the twins?"

"It's not just about telling people off," Hermione frowned.

"It's not? That's all _Percy_ did," Ron huffed. In truth he hated the idea of having something in common with his prat of a brother. While Bill had also been a prefect, Ron was too young to have seen it so he associated the position with his up-tight, traitorous older brother. It didn't make it seem the least bit appealing.

"You're not Percy," said Hermione as though reading his thoughts. "Being a prefect is about setting a good example, welcoming new students and helping the teachers when things get tough."

Ron raised his eyebrows at her. Only Hermione's face could light up at the thought of '_setting a good example_'.

"What?" Ron snorted. "So next time Snape can't think of decent enough insult to throw at me I have to make suggestions?"

Something in Hermione's expression hardened. Clearly he wasn't taking this seriously enough for her liking.

"Remember when Sirius broke into Hogwarts on Halloween?" ignoring his attempt at humour completely.

"The sleepover in the Great Hall?" Ron chuckled at the memory. "Yeah?"

"Who did Dumbledore ask to patrol the corridors?" Hermione asked. Ron shrugged and was then treated to another roll of her eyes. "The prefects," she explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's a lot of responsibility," she added when Ron continued to look at her doubtfully.

Ron drained the last of his drink and considered her words. Being a prefect still didn't seem to be up to much.

"You think I can do that?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course," she replied automatically.

"Well, thanks. I've always wanted to be able to walk around corridors."

Although Hermione scowled at him, Ron noticed the corners of her mouth twitching. As usual though, Hermione wasn't about to let Ron's jokes distract her from the subject at hand.

"You are determined to hate this, aren't you?" she asked, giving him a hard look that was far from resigned.

Ron considered this for a moment. Apart from the association with Percy, why was he so reluctant to be a prefect? Hermione was still waiting for his answer so Ron decided to confide in her. She usual did give good advice even if it wasn't what he wanted to hear.

"Everyone's going to laugh at me," he blurted out without thinking.

For a split second Hermione looked hurt. After all, being a prefect was surely a dream come true for her and here he was moaning about it. As soon as Ron had registered the look however, it had been replaced by one of smugness.

"Yes," she nodded, "you and the fancy bathroom you get to use."

"I hadn't thought of that," he admitted and Hermione shook her head slightly.

"You'll be great at this, Ron," she enthused, taking a small step towards him. "You always stick up for me and Ginny and you could be a great leader if you actually tried."

Hermione's face was lit up in a way that reminded him of spew. He hoped her faith in him wasn't as crazy as her barmy organisation.

"You think?" he inquired sceptically.

"Yes."

Her reply was so firm and confident that Ron felt a bit better about the whole thing for a moment. Then he saw Harry slink upstairs and he felt his heart drop again.

"Harry would be better-" he mumbled before Hermione interrupted him.

"No." Hermione's voice suddenly had an edge to it and Ron subconsciously tried to back away, forgetting he was still leaning on the table. "Harry would slack off duties for Quidditch practise and lend the Marauders Map out to people wanting to get to the kitchens."

The spark in her eyes was enough for him to not mention that all of these things sounded pretty appealing. It seemed like she was more determined for him to be a good prefect than he was.

"Harry is more likely to lash out if someone pushes him but you stand your ground." There was finality in her voice that Ron couldn't argue with. She could probably have convinced him a house elf deserved to be Minister for Magic at that moment.

"S'pose," he agreed. He decided the tone needed lightening up or Hermione was likely to set things alight with just a look. "Plus I'm pretty good at saving people from inanimate objects. That could come in handy."

He smiled at her but she just looked back puzzled.

"What?"

"Y'know?" he said with a slight laugh. "That figurine that made you all weird and you started playing with my hair?"

Recalling the incident that happened a couple of weeks ago when the two of them had been cleaning out one of the smaller bedrooms and Hermione had dazedly reached up and pushed Ron's fringe out of his face as he polished a silver statue of a snake, made Hermione blush.

"Oh yes, well it was obviously enchanted," she said at once as she quickly looked away from him. "Nice banner, don't you think?" she squeaked, gesturing the banner hanging on the opposite wall that Ron's mum had made.

"Bit much though," Ron said with a shrug, a little disturbed by Hermione's sudden change in behaviour. "I mean 'Congratulations?' it makes it sound like we're married."

Hermione had been taking a large drink of Butterbeer that she promptly spat out as Ron said the word 'married'. Laughing at her mortified face, Ron picked up a cloth from the kitchen counter.

"Not having much look with that drink, are you?" he chuckled as Hermione's complexion continued to impersonate a tomato.

Ron reached out with the cloth to wipe Hermione's white t-shirt down when he realised that the Butterbeer had landed on her chest and her clothing was more see through than usual. Thankfully, Hermione's head was still ducked in embarrassment so she didn't catch him gawping at her.

"Um… here," he said weakly, handing her the cloth. She took it with a small smile of gratitude and proceeded to wipe off the excess.

Upstairs somewhere he heard Harry shouting and Moody, Lupin and Sirius darted out of the room to investigate, while Ron tried and failed to stop looking at Hermione's chest. He was used to this practise; after all, what fifteen year old boy wasn't? This was different however. This was Hermione and he shouldn't have been looking at her like that.

"Can you see the mark, Ron?" Hermione questioned, pulling her top away from herself.

Unless, of course, she was asking him to. Then it would be ok, wouldn't it?

"Ron?"

"What? Oh yeah, you look- I mean, it looks fine," Ron croaked, keeping his eyes firmly locked on Hermione's face.

Hermione continued to clean her t-shirt the best she could while Ron battled with the voice in his head telling him that, while Hermione was undoubtedly a girl, she was still Hermione and was therefore off-limits for his hormone-induced perving. After all, she was his friend. His friend Hermione.

Nothing more.

* * *

"You're always having a go at each other, it's driving me mad."*

Hermione watched in shock as Harry violently threw his school bag on and stormed out of the Great Hall.

"Has Hagrid taught the blast-ended skrewts to walk on their hind legs and talk?" asked Ron darkly, a piece of shepherd's pie half way to his mouth.

"I am sick of him at the moment!" said Hermione shrilly. "_Always having a go at each other? _He's the one shouting at anything that will stand still long enough!"

"I reckon he'd chase after something to shout at to be honest." Ron dropped his fork with a clatter. "There is no need to treat us like that!"

Hermione resisted the urge to pinch herself. For once Ron was on her side.

"Exactly," she said slapping the table, causing Dean Thomas to jump next to her. "It's not like we even argue that much."

Across from Dean, Neville developed a hacking cough and shuffled slightly away from Ron.

"Ok," conceded Ron, noticing Neville's bizarre behaviour. "We have the occasional disagreement."

"A heated exchange-"

"A-a lively debate-"

"But that's ok. A bit of… debate amongst friends is perfectly healthy."

"I know, It's not like we spend every evening yelling at each other in the common room, is it?"

"Well, except for that one time last year-"

"Shove it, Dean," snapped Ron and Dean began hastily shovelling food into his mouth.

Memories of the Yule Ball were still embarrassing for Hermione to think about, especially now she was a prefect. How must that fight have looked to the younger students? The other thing that had annoyed Hermione about the way she had acted that night had been how she had stormed off. Maybe if she had stayed to see Ron's reaction or forced him to explain why he was so angry in the first place he might have announced he fancied her or something. Then, in Hermione's fantasies, the scene became like those old films where the man storms up to the woman and kisses her, making her knees buckle as the world dissolves and-

Hermione mentally shook herself. Firstly, these were not thoughts to be having in the Great Hall. Secondly, she was technically with Viktor at that point and she was not a _scarlet woman. _Thirdly, this would involve him actually having feelings for her, or any feelings at all for that matter. While child Ron had been adorably clueless, teenage Ron was frustratingly insensitive and thick when it came to the signals she was subtly trying to send him.

"So what if we have the odd heated discussion," continued Hermione as if the Yule Ball hadn't been mentioned (a speciality of Ron and hers). "Usually it's because you've been immature or-"

"What?" laughed Ron. "Normally it's because you've been nagging me to do my homework or mind my language."

"I seem to remember you being very grateful for my _nagging _in the past. Maybe if you just did your homework when we first get it I wouldn't have to nag you so much."

"Maybe if you just got off my back I'd do my homework in my own time!"

"Hardly likely, Ron. Honestly, if I nag you that much where am I finding time to start all these fights we _don't _have?"

Ron opened his mouth to retort when a small smile started playing his lips.

"What?" said Hermione hotly.

"We're arguing about how we don't argue."

Startled by this revelation, Hermione stared at Ron and tried to think of a witty come back but couldn't. This was happening more and more recently. Ron would flash her a grin and her supposedly brilliant mind would disengage, leaving her defenceless. Their eyes met briefly before they descended into peals of laughter. After a few minutes, Hermione coughed herself back into seriousness and took a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Well, maybe Harry has a point but it still doesn't justify his behaviour recently."

Ron stabbed his food angrily. "Tell me about it! At least you don't have to deal with moody Harry in the mornings. He wakes up, sees Seamus and then starts slamming things."

"We're his friends! We're the ones who believe him, who have always been there for him and he is treating us like dragon dung!"

"After everything we've ever done for him… This is the thanks we get?"

"Exactly!" Hermione slammed her goblet down and orange liquid sloshed out on to the white table cloth.

Hermione took a deep breath and started to feel guilty. This wasn't her. This wasn't them. Besides the odd disagreement about broomsticks or pets, the three of them had always stuck together, not because they wanted something in return but because they were best friends. Nothing, not the Daily Prophet, not even You Know Who, was going to change that.

"No, Ron, this isn't right," she sighed.

"What? You're not actually going to defend him, are you?" choked Ron in disbelief.

"We shouldn't be defending each other from _each other, _Ron,"

Ron looked uncomfortable and shifted in his seat. "I know. It's just… hard to put up with it sometimes. I know he's been through a lot but I hate how it takes it out on us."

Hermione shook her head sadly. "We probably don't make it any easier for him with our… disagreements though."

Ron nodded and looked thoughtfully out of the rain splashed windows for a moment. Suddenly, he held his hand out to Hermione, who stared at it perplexed.

"What are you doing?"

"A truce," he answered simply.

"A truce?"

"Yeah. When we're with Harry we promise not to snap at each other. If you have a problem with me or me with you then we mention it when we're on prefect duty or when Harry is in detention or something."

"It's the first day back, Ron. I'm sure Harry isn't going to get many detentions."

"After what Snape was like today?"

"Well, alright," Hermione consented. "What about Quidditch practice?"

For some reason Ron's ears turned red. "W-what about Quidditch practice?"

"Can I snap at you when Harry is at Quidditch practice?"

"Erm… yeah. Sure," mumbled Ron.

Though she was unsure why Ron was acting so weird Hermione decided to let it drop. After all it probably involved Quidditch and she wasn't in the mood to spend the next twenty minutes nodding and making out like she cared. Hermione took Ron's still outstretched hand and shook it.

"Deal. No more fighting in front of Harry."

"No more fighting in front of Harry."

Reluctantly, Hermione let go of Ron's hand and started to eat her lunch again. After a few minutes of silence, Ron looked up at her.

"See? Look how much nicer it is when we do stuff together," he smiled at her.

Hermione felt the blush rising in her cheeks, nodded quickly and then hastily ducked her head back down in the hope he didn't see it. Sitting here, simply eating with Ron in a calm and companionable silence gave her more pleasure than she even thought was possible. She dreaded to think what would happen if she spent all day with this new grown-up Ron and then got into a heated screaming match with him while they were alone during prefect duties. Thoughts of that old film were once again running through her mind except this time they weren't in the same room as half of the school…

Yes, while teenage Ron was frustratingly insensitive he also showed these flashes of startling maturity, both of which had the power to make her lose control, though in completely different ways.

* * *

*Line from Order of the Phoenix, Chapter 12

* * *

_A/N 2: This chapter is dedicated to the ticket inspector on the train mentioned in the 1st A/N who is likely never to read this. Without your kindness I would have been stranded or broke. The world needs more ticket inspectors like you._


	7. The Truth, Brains and Other Things

_A/N: The reviews and messages I got for the last chapter were ridiculous (in a good way). I post what I was convinced was a weak chapter and everyone liked it, especially the moment I have never quite been happy with? Proof, if it was needed, that I don't really know what I'm doing and I'm just blagging it. I cannot thank all of the reviewers enough but I'm going to try anyway._**  
**

_To everyone who has story alerted/favourited - I assume you like the story and don't just read it to laugh at me so I thank you as well._

_Special thanks to **wazlib88**, **moonliteshdow** and **InkTeardrops** who have reviewed every single chapter so far. You're possibly the most stable things in my life._

_I keep trying to make my A/Ns shorter, I swear, especially when it proceeds the moment that some of you have been wanting for for about 3 chapters now. Hope you like it! _

_Disclaimer: Despite offering her a crisp £5 note to take it off her hands, J.K Rowling still owns Harry Potter and not me._

* * *

**The Truth, Brains and Other Things that Hit Ron**

(_Like a Bludger to the head / The Prefect Meeting / Side Effects May Include… _)

Ron threw a stick into the lake and watched it sink. He thought about jumping in after it and joining it at the bottom of the lake but noticed that the Giant Squid, who was waving its tentacles in the air, was shivering from the cold and decided against it. Instead, he threw himself on the ground and leant against a tree. He could still hear the Slytherins chanting that bloody song, he could still see Harry's look of frustration, he could picture Malfoy's taunting face perfectly…

Without a doubt he was the worst keeper Gryffindor, possibly the school, had ever seen. _First you think you can be a prefect, Weasley, and now you think you can play Quidditch,_ he thought bitterly. When was he going to learn? He was useless. He wasn't as clever as Bill. He definitely wasn't a great Quidditch player like Charlie. Nor was he as popular as Fred and George, nor as brave and famous as Harry and he would never be as smart as Hermione.

He sighed; thinking of Hermione made his stomach clench uncomfortably though he wasn't sure why. Recently he had found himself idly daydreaming about or absent-mindedly staring at her quite a bit. Even in his sleep she was there. Some of these dreams were mundane, like the ones where they would just be doing homework together. Others were weird in the way that only dreams can be, like the truly bizarre night he and Hermione were dressed as elves in the Room of Requirement. Occasionally the dreams were of a very… adult… nature that left Ron unable to look Hermione in the eye the next morning.

He started to recall the latest version of this dream, in which Hermione had once again Polyjuiced herself into half a cat, and he felt his ears go red. Of course, he was fifteen; this type of dream was to be expected. He had dreamt about loads of girls. Sometimes they were pretty girls (that seventh year Hufflepuff for example, he thought wryly) and sometimes the dreams were weird or just downright horrifying (he had seriously considered dropping Herbology after the infamous Professor Sprout dream). Although, now he thought about it, it was Hermione who featured in them more often than not.

Why though?

He spent a lot of time with her, he rationalised. Yeah, that would be it. He spent a lot of time with her so it was natural that he would think and dream about her.

_You're doing it again._

The voice in the back of his mind was right. He had just humiliated himself in front of the entire school and here he was, thinking about Hermione again.

_And talking of Hermione, what was that about this morning?_

Ron's stomach clenched again. He remembered breakfast. The nerves were so bad he could barely eat. He could hear Harry and Ginny speaking to him but it was as though they were underwater. Nothing they said had really registered in his mind. He was only vaguely aware that Hermione was there at all. Then she had kissed him on the cheek. He tried to remember if he had been standing or sitting but found he couldn't. The whole incident was a haze, her voice wishing him good luck, her soft lips on his face…

It was the only thing from the morning that had cut through his nausea and blind panic. For a few minutes afterwards he hadn't been aware of where he was, just that Hermione wasn't with him anymore. He had wanted to go back and find her but then realised he was already halfway to the changing rooms.

He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself to try and keep warm. He supposed he could go back to the castle but he couldn't face everyone yet. He had been gone for hours already and no one had come to look for him. He had half hoped that Hermione would.

_There you go _again.

Although he definitely wanted to be alone at the minute, it was normal to want to see a friendly face in a time like this. She was his friend. Why shouldn't he want her to come and comfort him? He imagined her walking up to him, putting a consoling arm around him, leaning up to kiss him…

_What?_

Ron stiffened and stared, wide eyed, at the bank opposite him. He didn't want to _kiss _Hermione! It would be weird.

_Would it?_

He tried to picture himself kissing Hermione. She was smiling warmly at him. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her lips that were soon colliding with his…

Ron shook his head and hoped the scene in his head would dissolve but it didn't. Kissing Hermione wasn't weird; it was brilliant.

What was he thinking? He gulped and rubbed his face vigorously. Hermione was his friend, just a friend. A friend whom he wanted to kiss.

_That's not really a friend…_

It wasn't like he found her attractive or anything. Well, she had nice boobs but what boobs weren't nice? And she had an all right face but it wasn't anything special really.

_Except her smile._

Of course she had a nice smile, her parents were those crazy Muggle teeth healers, weren't they?

_Oh, and her nose._

Ron smiled. She looked so cute when she wrinkled her nose up in concentration.

_And those eyes…_

Okay, yeah, her eyes were pretty great. Ron loved the way the brown seemed to shine when she was happy. She really did have beautiful eyes…

"No…" Ron said aloud.

A horrible thought had just occurred to him. He couldn't possibly… _fancy _Hermione. The idea sent his mind spinning. It would explain the dreams, the constantly thinking about her and why every time either one of those things happened he would feel all weird inside. It couldn't be true though, could it?

_Why not? She's a girl._

No, she's a Hermione.

_What's the difference?_

Girls were everywhere. They were great to look at and everything but they were high maintenance and never said what they meant. Not to mention the annoying giggling at the strangest of things. They were obsessed with their hair and hung around in packs that went quiet when you walked past like they were going to attack you or something.

Hermione… Well, Hermione was none of that. She was smart and independent and interesting. She made him laugh. She annoyed him and pushed him but only because she cared and besides, he loved winding her up just as much. Most of the time she never really put much effort into her appearance but she looked nicer than half of the girls plastered in make-up. Hermione was always there for him and he knew she always would be.

_So why, if she is so much better than all the other girls, can you not fancy her?_

She's my friend.

_Do you want her to just be your friend, though?_

No.

_And why is that?_

Because she's Hermione.

Ron blinked. He suddenly realised that darkness had fallen on the grounds and that it had started snowing. Judging by how deep it already was, it had been falling for a while without his notice. It was time to face facts, he thought, getting to his feet; not only was he a terrible Quidditch player and the laughing stock of Hogwarts, but he fancied Hermione.

"This is mental," he croaked, trudging back up towards the castle.

_Tell me about it._

* * *

Hermione grabbed Ron's arm and dragged him away from Harry. Between a fairly miserable Christmas and the impending Occlumency lesson with Professor Snape, he could really do with a conversation with Cho that didn't involve Ron's gross lack of tact.

"Hermione!" he protested. "What's that for? Why are we going to the library?"

It was almost as if he purposely tried to aggravate her, she thought, rolling her eyes at him.

"Harry wanted to talk to Cho," she explained as if to a five year old.

Ron knitted his brow in confusion. "Yeah? So why are we going to the library?"

Tutting, she picked up her pace, still dragging him along. As they reached the floor the library was on, Hermione had an idea. Just to the right of the staircase they had just climbed was a classroom that wasn't in use because Peeves had decided to 'decorate' it over the Christmas holidays. Filch still hadn't got around to clearing it up yet. Hermione slipped inside and pulled Ron in with her.

"This isn't the library," said Ron slowly. He looked around at the rude pictures painted on the walls.

"Shockingly enough, Ron, I am aware of that," she replied, sitting on a desk. She would've sat on a chair but they had all been glued to the ceiling.

At this Ron started to smile, a witty retort no doubt about to leave his lips when suddenly he turned pale.

"Oh no," he gulped. "Wh-what did I do?"

Hermione stared blankly at his terrified face.

"Nothing," she laughed bemusedly.

Her laughter did nothing but cause Ron to back away from her, shaking his head.

"Then why have you called a prefect meeting?" he asked, gesturing to the devastated classroom.

As realisation dawned on her, Hermione really started to laugh. Really, it was worth being surrounded by scribbles of things that made her blush just to see the terror on Ron's face, especially when it was caused by the threat of her being angry with him.

Since the truce they called in September, her and Ron found it was hard not to snap at each other in front of Harry. It was made even more difficult because they were bottling up any grievances they had while around him. The week before her birthday Ron had come up with the idea of 'prefect meetings'. If she had a problem with him or him with her then they would remind the other one that they had a prefect meeting or patrol duty that night. This way they could leave Harry, find somewhere private and unload any issues that had built up since the previous meeting.

'Meetings' had been called for everyday things like trying to mother Harry (her), disgusting table manners (Ron) or their views on Professor Snape (both of them). The best meetings, however, were always the ones over something ridiculous like the walking in a weird way (Ron), writing too neatly (her) or the pronunciation of the word 'bath' (both of them). These meetings always followed the same pattern: the annoyed one would state their problem with sincere aggravation. The accused would then splutter indignantly that the other was being petty. The annoyed one would continue pushing their feeble point across until the accused fought back and then a small argument would break out. This would escalate until one of them remembered what they were arguing about in the first place and start chuckling, shortly followed by the other and then they would go back to Harry in a fine mood. All of this would take place in the space of ten minutes.

It worked perfectly. Hermione did feel a bit guilty about leaving Harry out but he didn't notice because he was so caught up with his own problems and it meant they had an outlet for their bickering. In fact, Hermione quite enjoyed the prefect meetings. It made a nice change for her and Ron to be honest with each other and talk through their problems, albeit in waspish or loud voices. It also made it easier to spot when she was doing something that annoyed him so she could stop doing it to prevent more prefect meetings. Occasionally she would do these things on purpose just to get a rise out of him because it amused her watching him trying to maintain his composure around Harry, but he didn't need to know that.

When most boy and girl pairings snuck off somewhere to be alone they were doing it for a snog. She and Ron did it for an argument.

"This isn't a prefect meeting!" she chortled. "I just didn't want you messing things up for Harry and I wanted to talk to you."

Ron loosened up a bit but still didn't approach her.

"So you want to talk to me but you're not angry?" he said hesitantly.

"Yes," she sighed. "We didn't really get to speak to each other properly over Christmas, what with the house being so crowded and everything else that was going on."

"Oh." Ron paused for a moment before shuffling forward. He perched on the desk opposite her, still looking a bit uncomfortable.

"Are you really that scared of prefect meetings?" she asked innocently. "It has been three weeks since the last one."

"I'm not scared of them! I just didn't know what I'd done wrong," Ron spluttered. "Besides that last meeting was stupid! 'Your hair looks different.' Honestly…"

"It was just bugging me all day, alright?" she mumbled. It had annoyed her how much Ron changing his parting had got to her, especially when he hadn't even noticed, but that wasn't the point. "Anyway this _isn't _a meeting so let's forget about that."

Ron shifted so he was sat more comfortably on the desk and looked at her while she tried to remember what she was going to say.

"So, how are you?" she began politely.

"Erm… good?" replied Ron, looking confused.

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron mouth twitched at the familiar sight. "I mean, how are you feeling about your dad and everything?"

His eyes snapped down. Typical male, uncomfortable with feelings… She was sick of being told not to push Harry to talk about his problems but she had to mother someone. It was in her nature. Being the oldest, the most mature and the only girl in the group Hermione had always felt responsible to look after her boys and if that meant making them squirm and mumble then so be it. She was determined to get more than an "I'm fine."

"Well, he's better now so yeah... I'm fine," Ron nodded.

That phrase would be the death of her. He wasn't going to get away with it. She raised her eyebrows sceptically and watched him crumble.

"Okay, I was, y'know… upset when it happened and stuff but everything is fine now."

It was like taking gold from a Niffler.

"Look, Ron," she began, trying not to sound too annoyed. "I know that you don't like- What's that?" she said suddenly, noticing a cut by Ron's left ear. Ron started at her sudden change of tone.

"Wh-what's what?" he stammered, perplexed.

Hermione hopped off the desk and touched the small cut lightly with her forefinger.

"That," she repeated. It was then that Ron did something very strange. He suddenly shivered and the tips of his ears started to redden.

"Oh," he croaked. "I just cut myself shaving this morning."

This new information threw Hermione's thoughts of Ron's weird reaction straight out of the window.

"You shave?" she said in a small voice.

Ron coughed and looked at her, as she withdrew her finger from his jawline. "Uh, yeah."

"But… but you're fifteen!"

"Yeah, so?" Ron asked uncomfortably.

"Why are you shaving?" Hermione was trying to work out why she was reacting like this. It wasn't like he had announced he was going to start knitting hats with her or going to live with Aragog.

Ron laughed. "I don't think I'm quite ready for a beard."

Wide-eyed, Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times trying to think of a response. Meanwhile, her mind's eye was trying to picture Ron with a beard and he didn't look good. What about a bit of stubble? Definitely an improvement, she thought. Would it tickle if he were to…

Hermione mentally shook herself away from images of Ron looking rugged and sexy. They were dangerous things to ponder while this close to him.

"No, I don't think you are," she agreed numbly.

Ron grinned sheepishly.

"I've just realised something," Hermione said abruptly.

"What?" Ron seemed unnerved by the rapid speed she kept changing her tone.

"The twins. It's their last year, isn't it?"

"Thankfully," muttered Ron in an undertone.

"So next year," continued Hermione as if he hadn't spoken, "you will be the oldest Weasley at Hogwarts."

Her pronouncement caused Ron to gulp and turn a shade of grey. Hermione chuckled lightly.

"You're actually growing up, Ronniekins."

Ron scowled at the use of his old nickname. "Not likely," he grunted.

"Oh, come on," she laughed. "It was bound to happen someday."

Ruffling his hair, Ron grimaced. "Well, at least I won't get pushed around anymore."

"I wouldn't count on that," Hermione said seriously. "After all, Ginny will still be here."

Ron flashed her a quick look of annoyance before laughing. "Well, we best get to the library and see if Harry is wearing a Tornadoes badge yet," he joked, sliding of the desk and taking a deep breath of resignation. As she approached the door, stepping around two suits of armour in a rather compromising position, she heard Ron sniff behind her.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She put her hand on the handle as she turned around. Ron looked a little nervous yet pleased.

"Are you- are you wearing the perfume I got you?" If Hermione wasn't much mistaken (and she very rarely was) his tone was hopeful. She tightened her grip on the handle and tried to fight the blush rising up her cheeks.

"Um, yes," she replied in a voice a little squeakier than normal. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," Ron said automatically, his cheeks also starting to heat up.

"Thanks again, by the way," Hermione blurted before she lost her nerve. "For the perfume, I mean." She meant it. While she had said it was unusual on Christmas day she hadn't meant it in a bad way. It smelt a bit like freshly cut grass, which was unusual for a perfume but wasn't unpleasant by any means. In fact, once she had got over the shock of Ron getting her _perfume_ she realised she quite liked it because there was something so _Ron _about it. She had felt guilty ever since for not being more grateful.

"Yeah, well," Ron coughed, looking at the sleeve of his robes, "it was no big deal."

Hermione couldn't help feeling a little disappointed by his words. Perfume was so different from the usual sweets and chocolate that she was sure there was some meaning behind it. As usual she had over analysed and drawn wild conclusions that could never be true.

"Anyway," Ron said, snapping Hermione away from her musings, "we should go. At this rate I'll be late for Divination."

Hermione laughed as she pulled open the door and started towards the library, Ron falling into step at her side.

"Why you still take that subject is beyond me," she muttered for what must have been the hundredth time.

"You're just jealous because your Inner Eye needs glasses," Ron scoffed.

"That's not it at all," Hermione frowned. "Anybody could do her job! Ooh, Harry will be foul mood after Defense Against the Dark Arts and, by dinner, you will be driven mad by your gastronomic lust! See? It's not- Ron?" Hermione watched in confusion as Ron had blanched at the word 'lust' and scurried ahead of her.

"I-it's nothing," he called over his shoulder as he entered the library. When she eventually caught up with him he had already sat down, hunched over with his back to her. "Just wanted to get here before Harry," he mumbled when she came into view.

Hermione watched him suspiciously as they waited for Harry to join them. Her eyes once again found the small shaving cut on Ron's jaw. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, it kept drawing her attention. When Harry eventually found them he was practically singing, leaving Hermione with no doubt that his talk with Cho had been a success. For some reason, this left her feeling a bit put out.

It wasn't until after she bade them farewell and headed to Arithmancy, that she realised why she had felt that way. Harry was finally getting to grips with girls, Ron was shaving… The two boys she had met on the train four and half years ago were turning into men. By the time she got her number chart and books out at the start of the lesson, she couldn't help but feel a little proud. After all, she hadn't done too bad a job of raising her boys.

* * *

Ron sat up in bed, breathing heavily. He stared around the hospital wing to be sure that he had successfully escaped the horrible nightmare he had just endured. Terror was ripping through his veins and he was drenched in cold sweat. This had been happening three or four times a night for the past couple of days. Although he had no memory of it, a brain had apparently attacked him at the ministry and the after effects had left him in a pretty bad way.

It turned out that the brain he had summoned had once belonged to a Muggle and, when it attacked him, it had somehow transferred memories over to Ron. Every so often Ron would recall something that had never happened to him. At this point in time, Ron had a pretty good knowledge of this Muggle man's life. There were often parts that he didn't understand that Hermione would explain to him because she knew about all the weird things Muggles did. The most distressing of which was when Ron had remembered a trip to the Muggle hospital and Hermione seemed to find his reaction funny when Ron told her that he was on something she called 'a drip' and he had vowed to never question Madam Pomfrey again. From all the memories, Hermione had deduced that the Muggle had died about twenty years ago at a ripe old age. Why the thing was in the Department of Mysteries was beyond him.

Overall, the whole thing would be pretty fascinating – if it wasn't happening inside of his own head.

He and Hermione had decided it was best not to tell Harry all of this, or the extent of Hermione's injuries, as he had enough problems, not to mention guilt, to be dealing with.

The problem was that at night, Ron had vivid flashbacks of this Muggle's life in his nightmares. While asleep, Ron also felt the emotions that were associated with the memory and that meant he kept waking up laughing, crying or screaming. Tonight he had woken more scared than he could ever remember being. He tried to steady himself but vomited on the floor next to his bed.

"Ron?" he heard Hermione whisper in the darkness. She was used to his bizarre night-time behaviour by now but he had never been sick before.

While he was still trying to control his heart rate and breathing, he heard her get out of bed and pad over to his, pausing briefly to mutter the spell to vanish his sick.

"Ron, what is it?" Hermione said as she sat down on the edge of his bed. "What did you see?"

Ron shook his head, his lips tightly shut. He was still shaking but he didn't understand why; nothing particularly bad had happened in the dream. He really couldn't see why the Muggle would've been this frightened over it.

Hermione started rubbing his back and, after few moments, Ron felt okay to talk.

"N-nothing happened. I d-don't get it," he stuttered, turning to face her. Her eyes had dark circles under them from the lack of sleep and her face had a silvery quality to it because of the moonlight that crept its way through the open window.

"It might be a Muggle thing," she reasoned. "What happened? I might be able to explain it."

Ron looked into her kind eyes and began to describe the dream the best he could. He still felt nauseous.

"W-well, I was just in like – a - a hole with all these other blokes that l-looked all tense and- and scared."

Hermione thought about this for a second before she spoke.

"You were in a hole?"

"Yeah," replied Ron, trying to picture the scene again. "Well it was kind of… long. More like a ditch."

Hermione knitted her brows for a moment before Ron saw realisation creep onto her features.

"Ron," she whispered, looking very concerned, "can- can you remember what you were wearing? Or if- if you were holding anything?"

Her tone did nothing to help his panicked state.

"Erm… green. I was wearing dark green. I was all muddy and so was everybody else. We were all just – standing there waiting for something. I can't remember holding anything…" Ron screwed his eyes up in the hope that the dream wouldn't leave him. "Wait, no, I was! It was like this big, weird, metal thing. Some crazy Muggle thing."

Ron opened his eyes with a shrug and looked at Hermione again. "See? I don't get why this bloke was so worked up about it."

Hermione bit her lip and looked at Ron as though he was dying.

"What? What was the dream about?"

"I think- I think the man who the brain belonged to may have fought in World War One," she explained quietly. This meant nothing to Ron.

"What's World War One?"

He expected Hermione to roll her eyes and start spurting out the textbook perfect answer to his question but instead she just looked horrified.

"Hermione?"

"It was a Muggle war that happened between 1914 and 1918. It was… a horrible, bloody war," Hermione said quietly.

"Oh. Right," Ron replied. He had never really thought about Muggles having wars before. What would they use to fight if they didn't have wands? What would they fight over? What kind of war wasn't horrible? This still didn't explain the fear he felt though. "But I wasn't fighting or anything. I was just standing in a ditch, waiting for something."

At these words, Hermione started to look a little bit sick. She bit her bottom lip and then started speaking very fast.

"World War One was mainly fought using a method known as 'trench warfare'. The ditch you were standing in was known as a trench and would have been several miles long. Soldiers would have lived in those trenches for months with only basic supplies. The enemy soldiers would also be in trenches opposite theirs. Sometimes they were a few miles away, sometimes only a couple of hundred feet. Eventually, the men in charge of the army would give the order that the soldiers would have to 'go over the top.'"

"Go- go over the top?" Ron repeated, confused.

"Yes. That means climb out of the trench and attack the enemy in their trenches."

Ron thought about this for a while. While he wasn't a genius like Hermione, he was still a pretty good strategist and he could see a gaping hole in this 'trench warfare'.

"But if they just hopped on to the land between the two trenches-"

"No-Man's Land."

"Yeah, that. I don't really know how Muggles fight wars but wouldn't they just be really easy targets?"

Hermione smiled but it was more of a grimace. There was no warmth there.

"Exactly. That's why it was such a horrible war." She took a deep breath. "You know that metal thing you were holding?"

Ron nodded.

"That's a gun. It's a Muggle invention, a bit like a wand, that shoots small metal pieces out of the end of itself at great speed."

"What's the point in that?" Even with his dad bringing home every Muggle contraption under the sun he had never even heard of these 'gun' things.

"Well," Hermione said uncomfortably, "if that small piece of metal hits a person it – well, it causes a lot of damage."

"Can it – it kill people?"

"Easily," replied Hermione grimly.

"But- but what's the point in it then?" spluttered Ron.

"To kill people," said Hermione simply.

Ron could see why his dad had never brought a gun home. Inventing something to kill people seemed like the most mental thing in the world.

"There are other Muggle weapons, like guns but bigger that would shoot explosives out. When soldiers went over the top, they had to avoid mines, which are things hidden in the ground that explode if you stand on them and all sorts of horrors," continued Hermione, playing with the hem of her pyjama top.

"So people would just jump out of a hole and run over ground that might explode at people, who they can't see and are trying to kill them?" summarised Ron.

"That's pretty much it."

Ron thought about this for a moment.

"That is the most mental thing I have ever heard and I've spent most of the year with that hag," he exclaimed, nodding at Umbridge's sleeping form.

"So now you understand why the Muggle was so scared," said Hermione, with a small smile. Umbridge bashing always made her smile, regardless of the circumstance.

"Why did they do it though?" asked Ron.

Hermione shrugged slightly. "They were at war."

"Yeah but… still."

"It's not much different to what we did really," Hermione said with a sad look on her face.

"What do you mean? That was completely different!" Ron laughed. "Those One War blokes were pretty much killing themselves!"

"Oh, and the odds were so much better for us were they?" Hermione challenged, eyebrows raised. "Six, unqualified teenagers against the most powerful Dark wizard in a century? Even when we were surrounded by Death Eaters, we carried on fighting."

"Yeah but that's different…" Ron started. Although when she put it like that, she did have a point. At least the Muggle fighters were against people their own age. "Why was I so scared then? When I woke up?"

Hermione gave him a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Ron pondered, "at the ministry I – I was scared, yeah, but in that dream… It was different. I could barely move. It was worse than when I met darling Aragog."

Hermione smiled. "Maybe you're just braver than the other man, Ron."

Something jumped in his stomach. Hermione had called him brave. Ron returned her smile. In his sleep deprived state he was suddenly filled with the urge to kiss her but he stopped himself. Hermione would likely slap him, their friendship would be ruined and nothing would ever be the same again. Ron longed to tell her how his feelings about her had changed but he couldn't see any good coming from it. Hermione just didn't think of him that way. She probably wanted to be with someone who was smart and polite and who had spent most of the year being laughed at on the Quidditch pitch. The _one time_ he had played well and he thought that maybe he could kiss her after the match and then blame it on an adrenaline rush if it went wrong, she hadn't seen it.

If that wasn't enough, he was now the idiot who couldn't keep his sister safe from Death Eaters because he had been attacked by a brain. He couldn't have been injured in a more humiliating way if he had tried. So instead Ron just stared into Hermione's eyes and hoped he didn't succumb to the nagging voice in his head and the low lighting.

Hermione gave Ron's arm a small squeeze and hopped off of his bed. As her feet hit the floor, she bent over slightly and gasped in pain, clutching her ribs.

"Hermione! Are you okay?" Ron said urgently. Nobody was sure what Dolohov had hit Hermione with, but Ron was determined to pay him back in kind.

She stiffly nodded her head and gingerly made her way over to her on bed.

"What's Madam Pomfrey said?" Ron asked. He watched Hermione gently lift herself onto the bed to sit so she was facing him.

"It's getting better," she said in a small voice. "It doesn't hurt as much and the mark is going down-"

"Mark? What mark?" Ron shot at her.

Hermione bit her lip. She obviously was hoping to keep it a secret.

"It- it's nothing-" she mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"Hermione…"

She gulped. "It's not too bad, Ron. Madam Pomfrey says it won't scar but- but it's fine."

Hermione tried to smile but Ron wasn't fooled. He could see the tears starting to form in the corners of her eyes.

"Show me."

Normally he wouldn't have asked. Normally he would've awkwardly tried to change the conversation topic. Feelings and sensitivity were not his strong points. However, the time they spent in the hospital wing had changed how he and Hermione interacted. When everyone visited in the day, they would bicker and tease as usual but when everyone had left them alone, they would talk openly about things they had never really discussed before.

Hermione had told him all about her Muggle primary school and how she had never really fitted in. Ron told her how he had always struggled coming from a poor family and how much Percy's betrayal had hurt him. In the day-lit hours, the topics were never brought up but after dark, Ron was willing to discuss things he had never dreamt of saying aloud. Maybe it had something to do with not being able to see the other persons face, Ron thought.

Hermione looked nervous all of a sudden but Ron looked back calmly.

"I won't laugh or anything," he said kindly.

She seemed to debate this for a while and then slowly lifted up her top to the bottom of her ribs with shaking hands. At the top of her stomach, heading upwards diagonally and disappearing under her pyjamas, was a thin mark unlike anything Ron had ever seen. It wasn't a cut or a burn but what looked like blurry, melted wax. If Ron hadn't been looking for it, he probably wouldn't have seen it.

Ron looked up at Hermione's face to see if she was okay but her head was downcast, her hair blocking her face from view.

"Hermione?"

She didn't look up.

"Hermione, look at me."

She lifter her head up and Ron was surprised to see her eyes were dry.

"It's not that bad. I can barely see it," whispered Ron. "Plus if Madam Pomfrey thinks it'll go down then it probably will. That woman's a genius. Mad, but a genius."

Hermione laughed and dropped her top down. "I know. It's just- just weird. I've never had scar before."

"Well, if the past few days have taught me anything it's that that is probably a good thing," Ron muttered darkly.

"Hmm," Hermione said in agreement. She sniffed and seemed to be trying to think of a way to move the conversation away from her scar. "At least we got our OWLs out of the way before we ended up in here. Imagine having to revise while taking all these…"

Ron laughed as they both climbed beneath their own covers and tuned out Hermione's apocalyptic vision of taking exams while incapacitated. Only she could find the bright side of a terrible situation in having had exams before it. Her ability to find a bright side at all was remarkable in itself. Yes, she was barmy and bossy but she was brilliant with it. He really did love that girl.

Ron gripped the edge of his mattress convulsively.

"Goodnight, Ron."

Suddenly he was more terrified than when he had first woken up.

"Ron?"

"Yeah, 'night Hermione."

As soon as he thought it, he knew it was true, even if he couldn't tell you what any of it meant. It had snuck up on him while he was busy being too thick to notice or was point blank denying that he even fancied her. It was never a question of _if_ he fancied her, really, but how deep he already was. Somewhere along the line, while Ron was otherwise preoccupied, he had fallen in love with Hermione Granger.

* * *

_A/N 2: Anyone who now has 'Granger Danger' in their heads has just earned themselves a virtual high 5 and a Red Vine._


	8. Shades of Lavender: Translucent

****_A/N: I may have mentioned this before but thank you to all reviewers, alerters and favouriters. In fact, last chapter got more reviews than any other chapter previously (one of which contained a serenade) so it is an extra big thank you this time._

_So far the story has been, for the most part, a bit on the fluffy side but as you've probably realised it's not just Quidditch, chess and homework for the last two books as there is more death, heartbreak and *shudders* Lavender Brown. While Ron isn't on the verge of breakdown and Hermione isn't about to start cutting herself, from here on out there will be more angst. Sorry if you don't like that but it would be impossible to write without the occasional angsty moment._

_Anyway, Half Blood Prince. Enjoy!_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own Twilight. She refuses to swap._

* * *

**Shades of Lavender: Translucent **

( _Patrolling - together / See Ginny Gloat / Hey Lavender_ )

Ron and Hermione were walking down a deserted corridor on the fourth floor. It was early evening and the stone passageways of the ancient castle were basked in pale pink from the twilight sky shining in through the windows. Ron supposed it would be rather peaceful if it wasn't for the nerves grating his insides.

He had to ask her. But what if he messed everything up? What if he had got the wrong idea completely? It was no good though; he would just have to grit his teeth and ask her to clear this up. She had only asked him a few hours ago and it was already driving him mad.

"We're not really supposed to patrol the corridors in pairs, you know," Hermione said nervously. "We could get in trouble"

Ron scoffed. No one was going to have a go at them for doing their prefect duties, especially with Malfoy completely abandoning his.

"None of the teachers are going to put _you _in detention, Hermione," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

Hermione didn't reply but continued looking worried. They kept walking around the hallways but there wasn't any trouble. Ron couldn't help but think he could be spending his time lounging around in the common room but he couldn't miss this golden opportunity to talk to Hermione alone. He just didn't know how to breach the subject…

"We could have got this done so much quicker if you had just done half the route yourself, Ron," Hermione huffed as they reached the stairs to the fifth floor. "Why don't you just go straight to the sixth floor and I'll meet you by the bust of Hengist of Woodcroft on the seventh and then we can just-"

"I wanted to talk to you," Ron blurted out suddenly. It wasn't exactly an opening but it would do.

Hermione shot him a quizzical look.

"We are talking, Ron," she stated, frowning slightly.

Ron hesitated and felt the heat rise up the back of his neck. Why hadn't he planned this better?

"I-I know," he said with a touch of annoyance. "I wanted to talk to you about… something."

She stared at him blankly.

"Ok," she said slowly. "What?"

"Herbology," he mumbled.

Hermione scowled at him and put her hands on her hips. Something gave way in Ron's abdomen; she really did have a great figure. He found himself cursing how loose fitting the Hogwarts robes were.

"I don't care what you say, Ron. I am not doing another essay for you this year! I keep telling you and-"

"Not the subject!" he said hastily. "The lesson! This- this morning's lesson."

His face was warm now. Hermione closed her mouth, her expression softening. She started fiddling with her sleeve. He wasn't the only feeling tense anymore.

"Oh. Right."

They stood awkwardly for a moment, not meeting each other's eyes. Ron decided to plough on and hope he didn't say anything stupid.

"It's just… I never really gave you an answer," he mumbled to Hermione's left shoe. He gulped.

Hermione was silent; she was obviously waiting for him to say something else but he wasn't sure how to say what he had to.

"I'd like to, y'know, go to the party. With you," he stuttered. "If- if, like, you still wanted to-"

"I do."

Ron looked up and saw Hermione had done the same. She had spoken so quietly that he had barely heard her over his own rambling. Now they were both staring at each and Ron noticed a pink tinge to Hermione's cheeks. There was something else Ron really needed to clear up but he was in very dangerous territory now.

"I-I was wondering if- I mean, what kind of party is it?" He spoke very quickly and he hoped Hermione had heard him because he didn't think he could've repeated it. If Hermione answered this fully then he could get the answer he needed without asking the question.

"Well, the teachers are invited and ex-slug club members," she shrugged.

This answer was not helpful.

"Right," he nodded. "Yeah, but what about the party itself?" he added, before his nerve gave out. The corridor was deathly silent but for her shallow breathes and the ringing in his own ears.

"I don't understand."

This was about the third time he had ever heard Hermione say that. Why was she choosing now to be as thick as him?

"Like, will there be food?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and gave him a withering look.

"I assume so, Ron. Don't worry, Slughorn doesn't expect you to go a short amount of time without food," she said waspishly.

He was starting to annoy her, he could tell. Hermione went to walk off again but Ron grabbed her wrist to stop her. He was getting desperate now.

"W-what about dancing?"

"Dancing?" she repeated. The colour was rising in her face and she staring intently at his face, as if trying to find an ulterior motive.

"Yeah, dancing," he breathed, suddenly aware how close they were to each other. "Stuff like that."

Hermione wetted her lips nervously.

"Maybe," she whispered. "Why?"

"I-I just wondered," Ron murmured.

There was no air in the corridor anymore and Ron wondered when he had stopped breathing. He had two choices on how to proceed; ask the question he had been dying to ask for hours or just kiss her. Both frightened the life out of him. Somewhere in his numb brain, he chose the former.

"Hermione," he said his mouth dry, "did you ask me beca-"

"Mr Weasley! Miss Granger! What are you doing?"

Ron and Hermione sprang apart. It wasn't until that he had let go of it that he realised he had still been holding Hermione's wrist. Professor McGonagall was marching up to them at the foot of the stairs.

"Can you please explain to me why two Gryffindor prefects are standing around talking in a corridor after hours?" she inquired sternly.

Ron opened his mouth but was too slow and Hermione got there first. Answering a teachers question was her specialty after all.

"We were patrolling the corridors, Professor," she explained, looking extremely nervous.

McGonagall eyed them suspiciously.

"Normally prefects do their rounds separately," she said sceptically.

"W-well, we wanted to be together," stuttered Ron, without thinking. His mind was still so full of what had just happened that he wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. "P-patrolling. You know, patrol the corridors to-together," he added hastily.

McGonagall's mouth thinned slightly. Ron couldn't be sure but she seemed oddly amused. It was far scarier than the time she had caught him and Seamus playing Exploding Snap in the back of Transfiguration and the cards had blown up, knocking her hat off. He winced at the memory.

"Well, I suggest the two of you continue patrolling the halls _together _and not just stand around talking," she said sternly.

"Yes, Professor."

"Sorry, Professor."

She gave them both a curt nod and headed down another corridor. Ron stared after her, his head spinning.

"Shall we, erm, carry on then?" said Hermione timidly, gesturing to the stairs.

"Yeah, s'pose we'd better," agreed Ron.

The rest of the patrol went without either of them mentioning Slughorn's party or what had happened at the bottom of the stairs. They chatted politely to each other and when they returned to the common room they sat with Harry by the window and did some homework. Eventually, Ron bade goodnight to both of them, padded upstairs to his dormitory and got into bed.

Hours later, he was still staring up at the canopy above him, wide awake and wondering if Hermione had asked him to the party just as friends or whether it was the date he wanted it to be.

* * *

"A little doxy tells me you have asked a certain Ronald Weasley to Slughorn's Christmas party."

Hermione smiled to herself, clutched the ancient tome she was carrying closer to her chest and continued walking down the dark corridor. She had been terrified to ask him but had planned it meticulously. The next time they were alone (probably when Harry had a meeting with Dumbledore again… or another detention with Snape) she would bring up the subject of the party and then casually suggest that he could be her plus one. If asked if it was as friends or a date, she would answer according to how well he took the invite. Simple.

Of course, it had all gone wrong. She changed her mind and decided to bring up the party in front of Harry so it wouldn't look like she was purposely trying to get Ron on his own when she asked him. As she should've expected, his reaction had been one of petulant jealousy and she had blurted out the invite in annoyance. It wasn't perfect but for all intents and purposes it had worked. She and Ron were attending the party together. Whether as friends or something else was yet to be decided but they could deal with that nearer the time.

"Don't ignore me, Miss Granger," called the voice again from the end of the corridor.

"I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about, Miss Weasley."

Hermione stopped and waited for Ginny to catch up with her. She kept her back to her while she tried to stop smiling but she hadn't been able to do that for days.

When Ginny drew level with Hermione, she looked at her with her eyebrows raised.

"Oh, I'm sure you do," she smirked.

Hermione felt herself blush and fought desperately to stop the corners of her mouth twitching. What was wrong with her? Her going with Ron to the party was hardly going to remain a secret but she didn't want to tell Ginny yet. So far the only people who knew were her, Ron and she suspected Harry had overheard and part of her wanted to keep it that way. She was deliriously happy and she didn't want the rest of the world impeding on that.

When Hermione didn't reply, Ginny stood in front of her so she was forced to stop walking. She put her hands on her hips and stared at Hermione. Eventually, Hermione cracked.

"Ok, yes, I did," she said with an air of dignity. "What of it?"

Ginny's face broke into a cheeky grin.

"So are you finally going to admit it, then?" she asked.

"Admit what?" Hermione knew full well, what; Ginny had been teasing Hermione about her feelings for Ron for years. Hermione had always denied them but Ginny had persisted anyway. Normally it was annoying but Hermione couldn't help but think that soon there would be no need to deny it. She knew she shouldn't get her hopes up but she couldn't help it; she was all but certain that she and Ron would be together by the end of year. The thought made her heart miss a beat.

"That you fancy the pants off my brother?"

"No comment."

Hermione brushed past her in the hope that this would be an end to Ginny's inquiries. It wasn't.

"Well, that is pretty much a confession!" Ginny laughed as she caught up with Hermione again.

"Do you not have anything better to be doing? Snogging Dean for instance?" Hermione said, eyeing Ginny's freshly tousled hair and pink lips. Ginny smiled sweetly at Hermione.

"While snogging Dean is a lot of fun," Ginny said without blushing, "I have been waiting for this for years."

Hermione tutted but didn't say anything. Sometimes she wished she could have Ginny's confidence. They continued walking to Gryffindor Tower in silence for a few minutes.

"So," Ginny said, trying to keep the humour out of her voice. "Is it an official date or what?"

Hermione bit her lip. She couldn't answer Ginny's question even if she wanted to. Her worry seemed to show on her face though and Ginny started laughing.

"You haven't told him it's just as friends, have you? Because, Hermione, that would be luring him under false-"

"Well, I'm sure he realises that it's a-" Hermione stopped mid-sentence as Ron's behaviour the other night became back to her. It was obviously a date. However, Hermione knew her idea of obvious and Ron's idea of obvious were two very separate things.

"I don't know."

Ginny's face fell.

"How can you _not know_?" she asked incredulously.

"We haven't, erm, properly discussed it yet," she mumbled. She could feel her cheeks burning.

Ginny stood in front of her again.

"So you've asked Ron to Slughorn's party, even though you don't fancy him?" Ginny said sarcastically. "And neither of you know what kind of invite it is?"

Hermione looked at her shoes. It was a ridiculous state of affairs but saying anything else to Ron might ruin everything and she did not want to mess this up. Besides, she had been the one to ask him, it was his turn now. He had to meet her halfway. She would remain in No-Mans-Land, waiting, no matter how much she wanted to sprint to the other side.

"For Merlin's sake..." Ginny sighed. "I don't know if you've met my brother, Hermione, but he is a little denser than most. He doesn't take hints. Ever. You have got to spell it out," she stage whispered before walking away.

"Not that you have anything to spell out, of course," she added, rolling her eyes.

Hermione followed Ginny with a knot forming in her stomach. She was right. Hermione would have to somehow make sure Ron knew that it was a date. But the party was weeks away and he had a Quidditch match coming up, Hermione told herself, there wasn't exactly any rush…

* * *

The Hogwarts grounds were covered in glaring sunlight but Ron Weasley's face was thunder. He was storming up towards the castle, broomstick in hand, shaking in anger.

Did she really think that little of him? _Poor little Ron, can't even play a simple game of Quidditch without being given lucky potion_. It was like he hadn't won the match at all. Instead, he had lost Hermione's respect and the thought of this hurt him more than any Bludger ever could.

For what felt like the hundredth time that day alone, he saw Ginny's livid face screaming at him – "_Hermione snogged Krum_"*. This sentence had been echoing in his ears ever since that night. Every time he saw Hermione he couldn't help but picture her laughing with that git, dancing with him, kissing him…

Watching them at the Yule Ball had been bad enough but he had always thought he had seen everything. Now he knew the basics of what had happened when he wasn't there, his imagination had been sent into free fall. While he was with Hermione in the Great Hall, he stared out of the doors into the Entrance Hall wondering if the kiss had happened there. When they were sat in the common room together, he saw her holding Krum under the birch tree by the lake. If they were studying in the library, he could see Krum pushing her up against the wall opposite where he sat, his hands exploring…

Ron ferociously shoved the heavy oak front doors open and headed towards the marble staircase. Why hadn't she told him? If nothing else they were meant to be friends, weren't they? She had told Ginny and he suspected she had told Harry too, judging by the look on his face when he had asked him if he thought it was true, so why not him? Was he too insignificant to share her secrets with?

The Hogwarts corridors were almost deserted; everyone had returned to their common rooms to discuss the match. Ron was finding it difficult to resist the urge to punch the walls. He knew if Mrs Norris came near him he would kick her without hesitation. While this was a happy thought, it did nothing to improve his mood.

Ron had always felt like a spare part, a sidekick, but recently he really thought this had started to change. He was a prefect, he was not only on the Quidditch team but he had won the House Cup last year and he had fought Death Eaters. Not only that, but being the oldest Weasley left at Hogwarts meant he wasn't being overshadowed by his brothers anymore. People were seeing him as Ron Weasley for the first time in his life. Not someone's little brother, not Harry Potter's best friend but Ron Weasley. It was as he ripped back the tapestry leading to the passageway that he had seen Ginny and Dean kissing in that he realised he didn't really care what everyone else thought of him; he had only ever wanted one person to see him for who he really was and she was probably triple checking that he hadn't cheated because she was so certain he couldn't do anything right.

He headed up the stairs and felt his anger melt away into hurt. Ron had stupidly let himself believe Hermione might fancy him. When she had asked him to Slughorn's party he hadn't dared believe it at first but at no point had she said 'just as friends' so he let the dream manifest itself in his mind. Obviously she thought the idea of the two of them being together was so ridiculous that it didn't need saying.

'What's the point in going to party just as friends though?' Ron thought bitterly. She hadn't gone to the Yule Ball with Krum just as friends. It was as he turned into the seventh floor corridor, a horrible thought hit him. Her and Harry were already going to the party but he wasn't part of the stupid _Slug Club_ so he didn't have an invite. Maybe she just didn't want him to be left out? Maybe she thought no one else could possibly want to go with him so she asked him? She had asked him out of pity.

The air seemed to disappear from the room. Why didn't he see it before? Of course she didn't fancy him, she was just babysitting him. Ahead of him, a small girl was knelt on the floor, tying her shoelaces. She took one look at his face and knocked over the glass jar next to her and it smashed on the stone wall.

"WHAT?" he yelled at her for no other reason than that he wanted to shout at something.

As she ran away from him, he continued stomping to Gryffindor Tower. Fine, he thought angrily, if that's all she thinks of me then I'll just go to the party in the common room and spend time with people who really appreciate me.

Ron growled "Dilligrout" at the Fat Lady, who reluctantly let him in with a reproachful look. He scrambled through the portrait hole and a huge cheer went up and everyone broke into a chorus of 'Weasley is our King'. Smiling awkwardly, he tried to make his way to the dormitory to put his broom away but found himself surrounded by people whom he didn't know the names of but seemed to know his. They offered him refreshments and congratulations but Ron discovered that he didn't want to spend time with these people and he longed to just sit quietly in the corner and think. He made his way to the door leading to his dormitory when he heard a girl call his name, but he didn't acknowledge her.

When he finally reached his dormitory, he threw his broom on the floor and flung himself onto his bed. He hadn't felt this bad about himself in a long time. He was pathetic and Hermione had realised. It was going to happen eventually. It wasn't her fault really, if he was a useless sack of dragon dung, was it? He brushed this thought away instantly; being angry at Hermione cancelled out the pain and that's what he needed now. He got up and headed down towards the party thinking maybe a couple of butterbeers would numb the headache he could feel coming on.

When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he walked straight into Lavender Brown, who flung herself onto him.

"Ron!" she exclaimed loudly. "You were amazing!"

Ron pushed her off him. She smelt like cheap perfume and it made his nose sting.

"Um, I guess. Thanks," he mumbled in reply.

Lavender flashed him a wide smile and batted her eye lids. "I thought you looked particularly good in your Quidditch uniform today."

Ron stared at her. Was she coming onto him?

"Er- thanks," he said as his brain froze to a standstill. This conversation was like walking into a dream. He had no idea what was going on and he wasn't entirely sure where he was.

"Well if you wanted to, erm, _talk _about it," she breathed, moving forwards so she was stood a bit too close to him for comfort. "I'll be in the corner."

She was looking at him very strangely. Ron couldn't remember how to move his arms, let alone speak. Lavender started walking away and Ron's eyes dropped to watch the swing of her hips. She looked over her shoulder and winked at him.

Suddenly a plan formed in Ron's head that would take out about fifty pixies with one stone. It would prove to Ginny that he could get a girlfriend. He would show Hermione that he didn't need her pity. He could prove to himself that he was more than what either of them thought of him.

He took a hesitant step forward and called out through the crowd.

"Hey- hey Lavender!"

* * *

* Line from Half Blood Prince, Chapter 14

* * *

_A/N 2: While I think it is fairly likely that prefects did their patrols in pairs, I don't think it actually says so at any point in canon so I said that they usually did them separately for the sake of the joke. It's not a heinous crime exactly, but it does feel a bit cheeky._

_Also, I know this chapter is a bit shorter than usual. Sorry._


	9. Shades of Lavender: Opaque

_A/N: Reviewers/Alerters/Favouriters - I thank thee. Your kind words make me smile. Here endeth the tiny A/N._

_And now for some calm and collected Hermione..._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter but lets me play with him as long as I don't break him. On an unrelated note does anybody have any glue?_

* * *

**Shades of Lavender: Opaque**

( _After the canaries / The lengths girls will go to get revenge / Christmas at the Grangers' _)

Storming down the corridor, barely aware of where she was going, Hermione felt herself give in to the storm of pain that had been building up inside of her since she had first walked into the common room. She could distantly hear to canaries' cries and Ron's shouts of pain but it brought her no relief. Try as she might she couldn't stop replaying the images of Ron and Lavender in her mind over and over again. Tears were streaming down her face and she was desperately trying to get as far away from him as possible and to not break down completely.

How could she have been so _stupid? _Ron obviously thought she had asked him to Slughorn's party as a friend. She had been thinking this since he had started being so cold towards her but she had never expected this. Hermione was furious with herself for letting herself believe that Ron had grown up, that Ron saw her as more than everyone else did, that maybe he had even loved her…

Hermione pushed open the door of an empty classroom so hard that it smashed back off the wall and slammed shut; she threw herself in the nearest chair and put her head in her hands in an attempt to control herself.

Nothing changed the fact that he had agreed to go to the party with her. Basic manners imply that you at least find out the nature of an invitation before you start snogging any passing girl who takes a fancy to you. Although, Hermione thought bitterly, basic manners were hardly Ron's strong suit.

She became aware that she was shaking and started taking deep breaths to try and stop this. Hermione couldn't remember being this angry in her life. She wanted to go back, to find Ron and to curse him until he resembled a Flobberworm. Yes, she was in love with him (the mere thought of this made bile rise up her throat) but right now she hated him more than anybody in the world.

"Hermione?"

Shocked, Hermione's head shot up and looked at the doorway and saw Ginny Weasley timidly making her way into the room.

"Harry said you were here somewhere and that you might be upset." Her voice was sympathetic but Hermione couldn't stand the pity in her eyes. Ginny didn't look a whole lot like her older brother but right now the way she furrowed her brow and pursed her lips slightly reminded Hermione of him. She saw red.

"Oh, and suppose you've come to gloat, have you?" Hermione shrieked, standing up. She was faintly aware of the tears running down her cheeks and the way her voice made her sound quiet mad but she didn't care. She wanted to hurt Ron and right now Ginny seemed a fair substitute.

"No, I just-"

"That's right! It's the moment you have been waiting for!" Hermione shouted as she furiously wiped her face on her sleeve. Ginny was staring at her as though she may breathe fire.

"You were right all along, Ginny!" Hermione screamed, her voice cracking from the strain, "I, Hermione Granger, am completely, head over heels _in love_ with Ron Weasley! THERE! Are you happy now?"

The pain washed over her and she collapsed back into the chair and started crying hysterically into her hands. Hearing the words she had so longed to say out loud in the current circumstances had robbed her of the little restraint she had left.

She felt Ginny tentatively put an arm around her and Hermione didn't have the heart to throw it off. They sat like this until Hermione finally spoke in a choked voice that was muffled by her hands.

"Ginny, I'm-"

"It's okay, honestly," Ginny interrupted quietly. "I know you're not angry with me."

After a few more minutes, Hermione had stopped crying enough to lift her head up and look at Ginny. Ginny regarded her with a determined look.

"My brother is an idiot," she said harshly. "He has no idea what he is doing and-"

"Don't defend him!" Hermione snapped.

Ginny raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not. Trust me." Ginny sighed and gave Hermione a small squeeze. "You have every right to be angry with him and I understand that you want to just crawl into a ball and cry for days on end and that's fine. Just promise me that you will not let him see you like this."

Hermione stared at Ginny's fierce expression and nodded.

"I mean it, Hermione," Ginny continued forcefully. "When you're on your own then cry all you want but, in front of him, you have got to act like this doesn't bother you."

Hermione seriously doubted she could ever even be in the same room as Ron again, let alone be civil in front of him. This must have shown on her face because Ginny pulled out a tissue from the pocket of her robes and passed it to her.

"It'll get easier," she said softly while Hermione dried her eyes. "After tonight it won't be as bad. It's just the shock."

"I d-don't understand w-what I've done w-wrong," Hermione sobbed. "Recently he has b-been just _h-horrible _to m-me and I don't know w-why."

"You didn't do anything wrong," Ginny said consolingly. Hermione couldn't work out the expression on Ginny's face. It was something like guilt.

They sat in silence for a while before Hermione let out a small, mirthless laugh and shook her head as she felt fresh tears start to build up.

"I- I was j-just so sure that he… that h-he…"

"He does," whispered Ginny.

"Then _why_ is he…" Hermione couldn't finish her sentence. She looked at Ginny imploringly through a haze of tears.

"I don't know," she shrugged sadly. "This is his problem. Let him make this mistake and I'm sure he will come around."

Hermione scowled. She didn't want him to 'come around'. She never wanted to speak to him again. How dare Ginny think that she was so weak that she was just going to wait for him to grow up? No, he had had his chance and he had well and truly blown it.

"No," Hermione growled. "He can make all the mistakes he wants; I'm not going to be there to pick up the pieces. That's it. We're done."

She glared determinedly at Ginny who looked doubtful but smiled at her proudly as she gave Hermione a small shake.

"That's more like it," she said quietly and the two friends started making their way back to Gryffindor Tower, discussing which jinx they would most like to perform on Ron Weasley if they could get away with it.

* * *

McLaggen.

She couldn't possibly be serious. McLaggen. She hated him almost as much as he did.

This wasn't happening.

_McLaggen._

"Won-Won, shall we go to our _special _place?"

What did she mean about _really good_ Quidditch players anyway?

"Ron? Are you listening to me?"

McLaggen wasn't even that good. Definitely a step down from Viktor bloody Krum.

"Ron!"

Ron started.

"Oh, yeah. Cool," he mumbled.

Lavender roughly turned his face so he was facing her.

"You weren't listening to me, were you?" she frowned.

Ron knew that the honest answer was no but there was no chance that he was going to give it. He had learnt the hard way that Lavender liked to be listened to. It wasn't Ron's fault that he found most of what she said boring.

"Sorry, I drifted off," he said, trying to smile, his mind still elsewhere. "What were you saying?"

He looked around. Harry and Parvati had already left the Great Hall, which left just him and Lavender. Ron tensed up inside. Being on his own with Lavender wasn't always a pleasant way to spend his time unless-

"I was saying we should go to our special place," Lavender whispered coyly, twirling her hair in her fingers.

-Unless he was snogging her. Their 'special place' was a little used classroom on the fifth floor that they went to if the common room was too crowded or if Hermione wasn't there. For some reason snogging Lavender wasn't as good if Hermione wasn't around to see it.

Not that Ron cared about Hermione anymore. His hands still bore the marks of those vicious canaries. So what if she was jealous of his relationship with Lavender? It was so typical of Hermione to assume that he would wait for her to get bored of all the other guys she wanted to snog. He wasn't her property. He could do what he wanted. It wasn't like he missed having Hermione around.

"Yeah, sure," Ron replied, smiling down at his girlfriend.

_Girlfriend._

It still felt weird saying it but that's what Lavender was, his girlfriend. It didn't matter that they couldn't really talk to each other about anything. That would come later. They were still getting to know each other.

Lavender flashed him that brilliant smile that made his… well, it didn't really affect him that much. It was still a nice smile. He grabbed her hand and they started towards the fifth floor, giggling as usual.

Why did she always giggle? Nothing funny had happened.

"Oh, but we've got to be back for half seven," Lavender said, suddenly looking very serious.

"What? Why?" spluttered Ron. That only gave them an hour. Normally they'd be gone much longer. Surely she wasn't going to make him do homework or something.

"I just want to see who's going to Slughorn's party. Y'know, see what everybody is wearing," she shrugged.

That bloody party was going to be the death of him.

"I- I don't know…" Ron stuttered. He had absolutely no desire to see Hermione and that git mooning all over each other. He had not long eaten.

"Oh, please, Won-Won," pouted Lavender, hanging off his arm. "For me?"

When did this Won-Won thing start? Ron hoped that she wouldn't start saying it in front of Harry. He would never hear the end of it. Saying that, Harry had been pretty good about the whole falling out so far. Still, Ron thought as he tried to think of a reason to avoid the common room, there was only so much a bloke could take.

"Nah, I'd rather just stay away from the crowd tonight," he mumbled.

Lavender stopped suddenly. Ron wasn't paying attention and nearly had his arm ripped out of his socket.

"Why not?" she asked sulkily. "Don't you want to spend time with me?"

No.

Ron pushed this thought away immediately. It was definitely not the right thing to say and he didn't want to start an argument.

"Yeah," he said slowly. The exact opposite of what he was sure was the wrong answer must be the right answer surely. "Just not in the common room."

Ron smiled at her tentatively. He was shocked when her response to this was to dive on him and hug him tightly around the neck.

"You want to spend time alone with me?" she squealed in his ear.

"Erm… yeah," he replied, trying to free himself.

She finally pulled back and beamed up at him. "You're so sweet."

Ron took her hand again and started on their original course, thoroughly relieved to have gotten away with his lie.

"I still want to see what everyone's wearing though," she said in a tone that said that Ron wasn't going to have a choice.

Ron groaned. Maybe he would be able to sneak away to his dormitory for a few minutes while everybody was leaving to go to the party.

"It'll be fun!" Lavender insisted. "Remember the Yule Ball?"

Ron's insides squirmed. He had been trying to avoid thinking about the bloody Yule Ball all day. In fact, he had been avoiding thinking about it for two years.

"I was so shocked when Hermione showed up with Viktor Krum. Weren't you?"

Ron grunted and hoped that would be enough of a response. Visions of Krum kissing Hermione found their way back into his head again.

"She looked so pretty in her dress robes. I wonder if she will try to look nice tonight," Lavender pondered dreamily.

He needed to shut her up. There wasn't much more he could take. Yes, he was completely over Hermione, in every way, but he didn't want to talk about it.

"She doesn't normally try which is a shame really- Oh!"

Lavender stopped talking as soon as Ron had slammed his mouth onto hers and backed her up into the wall. She was shocked at first but she started kissing him back soon enough. Ron found this was usually the best way to stop her talking, plus he got to snog her.

"Miss Brown! Mr Weasley! What do you think you are doing?"

Ron jumped away from Lavender, mortified. Professor McGonagall marched towards him, her mouth the thinnest of thin lines.

"We- erm…"

"You are a prefect, Mr Weasley," snapped McGonagall. "It is about time you started conducting yourself as such."

Ron tried to hide his embarrassment while Lavender failed to stop giggling next to him.

"Sorry, Professor," he mumbled to his shoe.

"I should think so. Now, hurry along. And behave yourselves!" she called after them.

With both of them laughing, they turned the corner and walked straight into someone.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't-"

Hermione stopped speaking when she saw who she had walked into.

"Hi, Hermione," said Lavender brightly.

"Hi, Lavender. I must be off. Excuse me," she said in an oddly formal voice as she side stepped them both and carried on walking down the corridor. She didn't even glance at Ron. Not that it mattered. After all, he hadn't looked at her. Well, except to check to see if she was looking at him. And now as she walked away to make sure she didn't look back.

"What's up with her?" snorted Lavender as she resumed dragging Ron.

"Dunno," he mumbled in reply, turning again to watch Hermione leave.

They eventually reached the classroom on the fifth floor without any more interruptions. As Ron locked the door with his wand, he did what he always did when he was alone with Lavender and tried to forget about Hermione. After all, he was completely over her. Maybe if he repeated it enough times he would believe it.

* * *

Hermione was sat at a table on her own watching the party happen around her. She could see Harry talking to Luna in far corner and but didn't feel like joining them. To be honest, she really didn't feel like being at the party. As she sipped her drink, Hermione wondered why she had bothered to come at all.

And then she saw him. Blue eyes shining, red hair blazing and a smile that lit up the entire room, walking towards her. His dress robes were navy blue and made him look, if possible, more attractive than usual. He walked through the crowd as if they weren't there; he only had eyes for her.

As Ron reached her, he held out his hand. "You look beautiful tonight."

Hermione's insides squirmed with pleasure and she grinned widely at him. She had been waiting for this for so long.

"Dance with me," Ron whispered and Hermione was powerless to resist.

Ron led her to the dance floor where there were already couples dancing, including Slughorn and a very tipsy looking McGonagall. Hermione also saw Harry but he was now dancing with Ginny for some reason. She wondered where Dean was but at that moment Ron placed a hand on her waist and started to dance. Hermione looked up at him and found herself lost in his gaze.

Without warning, the music slowed down and Ron pulled her closer. She tentatively wrapped her arms around his neck, as his found the small of her back. The rest of the room was filled with darkness and a spotlight was shining on them. Really, she should be mortified that everyone was watching this very personal moment between the two of them but Hermione was distracted; she had never seen such adoration in Ron's face before.

"You know it was always you, don't you?" he said in a strangely husky voice. "It was never her."

Hermione just stared at him. It seemed like the world had stopped turning as Ron slowly closed his eyes and leant in, gently brushing her lips with his. Lightning could have struck and Hermione wouldn't have noticed.

When he finally pulled away, Ron gazed deeply into her eyes.

"I love you, Lavender."

Hermione let go of him and backed away, confused. Ron kept staring at her, a smile still on his face. The darkness that surrounded them that had seemed peaceful before, was churning and she could hear malevolent voices calling her though she saw no one else in the room. Hermione span around and saw an ornate mirror behind her. She staggered up to it as the voices reached a crescendo. Trembling, she stepped in front of the mirror and found herself face to face with Lavender Brown.

Hermione opened her eyes, breathing heavily. Immediately she jumped out of bed and dashed to the full length mirror by her wardrobe. In the mirror she saw her pale, scared looking reflection and let out a sigh of relief. The dream had been so vivid that she had half expected to see Lavender Brown staring back at her.

_Lavender Brown, _thought Hermione scathingly, _it's not even a real name; it's a hideous colour scheme._

This wasn't the first dream of its kind. In fact they had been happening frequently since Slughorn's party. She recoiled as she remembered the events of that evening. While she had been planning to kiss McLaggen ever since she had asked him out, she had been having serious doubts. He may be handsome but McLaggen really was the most repulsive, arrogant cretin she had ever had the misfortune to spend an evening with. Still, she thought as he droned on about the time he saved a goal while being attacked by a swarm of wasps, anything Ron could do…

Her resolve even held as far as him trapping her under some mistletoe in the corner of the party. Hermione knew she was acting crazily, she knew this totally went against everything she believed in but she was so sure that if she could have a superficial, exhibitionist relationship of her own, Ron would feel at least some of the pain she felt. It was of Ron's shocked face that she thought of when McLaggen lunged and roughly kissed her. As soon as it started Hermione wanted to pull away but found that she couldn't as she was pressed tightly against the wall by his powerful arms.

After a couple of minutes that could have easily been some of the worst she had ever experienced, Hermione turned her head roughly to the side, breaking the kiss.

"What's up, babe?" McLaggen had asked, smirking. Hermione grimaced at the pet name, slipping under his arm.

"Oh, I just wanted a drink." Her voice had sounded very high pitched as she continued to try and evade his grasp.

"Plenty of time for that later," he whispered and reached for her arm.

At this Hermione had started backing away quickly, mumbling excuses until she was hidden in the throng of the crowd and started heading for the exit.

Hermione shuffled back to her bed and crawled under the covers. The party that had been the lynchpin of her plans to get together with Ron had been a bigger nightmare than she could've possibly envisioned two months ago. She had tried to play Ron at his own game and had failed miserably. Not only that, but she had lost a great deal of self-respect. The only consolation, she thought, closing her eyes to get some more sleep, was that this surely meant that she was a better person than Ron.

"Hermione! Get up!"

Hermione opened her eyes again at her mother's shouts. Looking at the alarm clock on her bedside table, she realised it was seven-thirty. Normally her dad was awake at this time but her mum didn't start functioning properly until after nine and three cups of coffee. Deciding that she must have imagined it, Hermione tried to go back to sleep.

"Hermione! It's Christmas! Get up!"

Hermione sat up so quickly in bed that she almost fell out of the other side. Of course, the only day Hermione's mother was active before her caffeine fix was Christmas Day. How had she been so distracted by her dream that she had forgotten? She hurriedly got washed and dressed and joined her parents downstairs.

Christmas morning was wonderful as always in the Granger household. Her dad was ecstatic with his new gardening tools from his wife, however, when she received her present from him (a very loud jumper and a dress in the wrong size), Mrs Granger's smile seemed rather forced as she politely inquired about whether he still had the receipts. Hermione received a large box of Honeydukes fudge and a book entitled '_The History of Ancient Runes from Around the World_' from Harry and a huge box of chocolate frogs from Ginny, as well as a Zonko's stress doll. Essentially it was the same as a Muggle stress ball but was shaped like a six inch tall man who would try and avoid the fury of its owner while attempting to reason with them. Hermione found this gift particularly thoughtful.

While she had been opening presents with her parents, Hermione had found herself enjoying herself more than she had been all holiday. Her mother kept shooting her inquisitive glances and when all the presents were opened Hermione could've sworn she was counting Hermione's pile.

Mrs Granger went to check on the turkey while Hermione and her father tidied the wrapping paper strewn across the living room. When the room was spotless once more, they settled down to watch repeated Christmas specials on TV and Hermione curled up on the sofa with Crookshanks and cracked open the tin of Quality Streets she had received from her aunt.

"It's nearly twelve, dear," called Mrs Granger from the kitchen. Hermione looked at her father. He had been compulsively checking the clock every two minutes since half ten. He winced before he replied.

"Ok, I'll just get my shoes on." He grimaced at Hermione who tried to conceal her smile.

"She's not that bad, Dad," she whispered as he passed her on the way to the hallway.

"Yes, Hermione, but she likes you," he replied in an undertone.

Hermione's mum had come back into the living room without either of them noticing and had overheard their exchange.

"I have been telling you for nearly thirty years," she frowned, her hands on her hips. "My mother doesn't hate you. Now hurry up, you know what she's like when you're late."

Mr Granger picked up his car keys with the air of a man en route to the gallows. He pecked his wife and daughter on the cheek and ambled out towards the driveway.

"Every year he has to make an ordeal out of it…" Mrs Granger muttered under her breath, settling herself down in the armchair by Hermione, cup of tea in hand.

Hermione and her mother watched TV for a few moments, as Hermione morosely picked out her favourites from the tin with one hand while gently playing with Crookshanks' fur with the other. Normally eating chocolate at this time in the morning and in these quantities was something Hermione would never think of. However, eating inappropriate amounts of sweets at inappropriate times reminded her of a certain red head and that just made her want more chocolate.

"What's wrong, Hermione?" Hermione looked up and saw her mum regarding her with a concerned look but didn't reply. "You've been down since you got back."

It was true. Most of her time had been spent in her room studying, or pretending to at least. Hermione had been very naive to think her mother wouldn't notice. She continued rummaging in the tin for another chocolate.

"You've fallen out with Ron, haven't you?" asked Mrs Granger, raising her eyebrows at the look of shock on her daughters face. Crookshanks suddenly bolted from the room, leaving Hermione wishing she could follow.

"Sorry?" Hermione replied weakly. How on earth had she known?

"Oh, please," Mrs Granger said, "it's obvious."

Hermione dropped her gaze to her knees. She had been looking forward to the Christmas holidays as she thought she would be able to escape, not only Ron and Lavender's tongue wrestling matches, but everybody else who knew she was upset by them. It was supposed to be a blissful two week holiday away from it all but somehow Ron had managed to barge his way in.

"It's- it's nothing," said Hermione, sitting up straighter in an attempt to compose herself.

Her mother set her mug on the coffee table and turned her body so she was facing Hermione.

"For the past month your letters home have been miserable and you haven't mentioned Ron in them once," she said in an annoyed tone of voice.

"I don't always mention Ron-" Hermione attempted to cut in but her mother was on a roll.

"You've spent the week you've been here moping around, pretending to read the same book."

"It's a difficult-"

"I have never known you to take over three days to read a book," Mrs Granger interrupted. "That infernal ball of feathers is never here for another thing!"

"Pig's just-"

"This is the first Christmas you have come home in five years-"

"Quality Street?" asked Hermione, holding out the tin and desperate to distract her mother. Mrs Granger took a chocolate but continued undeterred.

"He didn't even get you a Christmas present, Hermione," she finished as she violently unwrapped the chocolate in her hand. "What's happened?" she finished in a soft voice.

Hermione looked down again. Her mother always had an annoying habit of getting information out of her. Maybe if she didn't look at her she could get away without talking about it.

"Ok, so we've fallen out. It happens. People change," she said shortly.

Mrs Granger looked at her sadly.

"Not you and Ron though; you two have known each other for years," said, placing a comforting hand on Hermione's knee. "Whatever it's about will fix itself soon enough. I'm sure you'll be back together in no time."

Hermione blanched. "No, Mum, we were never together," she laughed hastily, though the truth in the words stung her. "It was never like that. We're just- we were only ever friends."

Mrs Granger frowned sceptically. "Hermione, you're seventeen. You can tell me if you have a boyfriend."

Hermione could feel the colour rising in her cheeks. She was _not _having this conversation with her mother.

"I haven't, Mum, honestly," she spluttered defensively but her protests were met with more disbelief.

"Oh, come on," Mrs Granger scoffed, leaning back on the armchair. "You honestly expect me to believe you weren't with Ron? Hermione, even your father has started to suspect something's going on between you two and you know observant he isn't," she finished in an undertone.

Hermione stared at her mother, horrified that her and her dad thought she had a boyfriend. All of this was becoming very awkward to explain and Hermione almost wished she was back upstairs in the middle of another nightmare.

"Mum. I swear to you - Ron and I were only ever friends," she stated, hoping to quell any doubt her mother still had. When she still looked unconvinced she threw caution to the wind and decided to hammer the nail in the coffin. "Besides, Ron has a girlfriend."

Shock followed by understanding flashed across Mrs Granger's face and Hermione knew she had made a mistake.

"By any chance did he get this girlfriend at the end of November? About the same time your letters became devoid of any joy and completely impersonal?" she asked gently.

Against her will, Hermione felt tears forming in her eyes and she blinked them away.

"I don't want to talk about it."

Hermione went to leave but her mother got up and sat next to her on the sofa and pulled her back down. She put her hand on the side of Hermione's face and lifted her head up so Hermione was forced to look at her. Mrs Granger was eyeing Hermione with pity and she seemed a little scared by something.

"You're in love with him," she whispered simply.

It wasn't a question, but a statement.

Unable to control her emotions any longer, Hermione screwed her face up and buried herself in her mother's shoulder as the tears started to fall. Hermione found herself explaining all about Slughorn's party, Ron's sudden mood swings and Lavender. She didn't know why, but telling the whole story to someone who wasn't there from beginning to end was a great relief. While Hermione spoke, her mother held her and stayed silent. Only when Hermione sat up did she speak.

"Don't you share a dormitory with this Lavender?" she asked, a slight crease in her brow.

Hermione nodded. She couldn't help to notice the repulsed tone in which her mother had said Lavender's name.

"Does she know how you feel?" Hermione shook her head. Lavender had asked why she had fallen out with Ron a couple of times but Hermione had always given her vague reasons and it seemed to satisfy her. She didn't seem to suspect anything. Although, reflected Hermione sadly, it wasn't as though she was doing anything with Ron to make her suspicious.

Hermione took her wand out of her pocket and silently summoned a packet of tissues from the kitchen. Mrs Granger jumped and then chuckled. "I keep forgetting that you can do that now."

They smiled at each other and Hermione started to wipe her eyes. Mrs Granger watched her, a shrewd expression on her face.

"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked, pushing Hermione's fringe out of her face. Hermione considered turning her down. She didn't want to hear anything along the lines of, 'forget him' or 'it was just a crush'. Hermione had been repeating this to herself for a month and it wasn't helping. Instead, she nodded again. Maybe hearing it from her mother would make her see sense.

"He's trying to make you jealous."

Hermione scoffed. It was a lovely idea that Ron was trying (_and succeeding_, she thought) to make her jealous but it simply wasn't true. She had asked him out. Surely that was a strong enough signal! This didn't seem to deter her mother though.

"Honestly," she continued. "He didn't know why you asked him out and he hatched a plan to find out. Of course, he's a boy so it didn't go quite to plan. In fact, he's not just a boy, it's Ron and from all I've heard, it was always doomed to fail spectacularly," she said, eyebrows raised. Hermione gave her a small smile but it felt strange.

"I asked him out, Mum," she mumbled. "It wasn't just little hints anymore; it was an _anvil-sized _hint! What wasn't there to understand?"

Mrs Granger sighed and looked faintly amused.

"As you may have noticed, Hermione, men are idiots. Idiots who cannot see what is right in front of their eyes, even if it had fairy lights and tinsel on it," Mrs Granger said sagely. "You may think you are being painfully obvious but they won't even bat an eyelid. Eventually, they come around."

Hermione's mother wrapped her arm around Hermione's shoulders and gave her a little squeeze. "One day Ron is going to wake up and notice that right in front of _him _is a beautiful, intelligent and remarkable young lady (although, I am slightly biased) who feels the same way he does."

Hermione considered this for a moment. She wished it were true but even if it was she didn't think she could forgive him. Hermione simply couldn't envision a future in which she wasn't mad at Ron and the thought of him and Lavender didn't cause her physical pain.

"You don't believe me, do you?" sighed Mrs Granger. "You'll see. With age comes wisdom, child."

Hermione laughed and her mother got up. Outside they could hear the crunch of gravel and the sound of a car engine. Mrs Granger suddenly started giggling.

"I remember once in the early seventies, I dyed my hair blonde and your father didn't notice for a week," she laughed, heading towards the hallway. "Men, they're all the same… Now hide your wand while I go and rescue your father from what I'm sure has been an excruciating car journey."

Hermione stowed her wand away as she heard her grandmother complaining loudly about her father's new car. Helping herself to another chocolate, Hermione began to wonder if there was any truth in her mother's advice and why on earth she had wanted to dye her hair blonde in the first place.

* * *

_A/N 2: Apologies if this chapter is riddled with errors. I did my final edit of it while watching the England game and Eurovision. On that note congratulations Hodgson and 'MON THE HUMP!_


	10. Shades of Lavender: Through the Mist

_A/N: Wow. This story is now on 20 favourites lists and has nearly 50 reviews. A big thank you to everyone who represents those numbers. I wish to pat you all on the head._**  
**

_Apologies to any Norwegians reading this for showing you up at Eurovision and football all in one night and to any non-Europeans who have no idea what the Eurovision is and call football 'soccer' for going on about them._

_Finally a shout out to the person who read this story in Belize, a country I hadn't previously heard of. Hello! According to wikipedia we share a Queen so happy Jubilee! _

_Fanfiction. It's also educational._

_**UPDATE 12.8.12: To the anon reviewer from chapter 7:** Thank you so much for the review and I'm glad you're enjoying the story but Hermione is the oldest. She was born 19.9.79, Ron - 1.3.80 and Harry 31.7.80. If Hermione had been born in the autumn of the same year as Harry had been born then she would have been in Ginny's year and wouldn't have been of age when they went on the run in DH. Thanks again for reviewing though! :)_

_And on with the show... Ooh look! The lesser-spotted Harry!_

_Disclaimer: My therapist tells me that J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter but what does she know?_

* * *

**Shades of Lavender: Through the Mist **

( _Hey Hermione / Perspective / So am I_ )

"I hate Snape."

"Really? I thought you were in love with him?"

"I'm serious, Harry. That's why he's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher this year; so I can't drown him in his own cauldron."

"I had a dream about that once…"

"Why is it when you dream that my dad gets attacked it happens and when you dream about killing Snape it doesn't?"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Maybe I'm secretly in love with Snape?"

Ron snorted and then burst out laughing. "If you're in love with Snape then I'm in love with..." Ron cast around for something to finish his sentence with. Somehow his original idea of 'Lavender' seemed a tad harsh. "Umbridge."

Harry chuckled and then gazed out of the window for moment while Ron went back to his essay. There wasn't really any point in going back to it, however, as he had no idea what to write. He glanced at his watch and saw it was ten to eight.

"Harry, it's nearly eight," said Ron, snapping Harry out of his reverie.

"What?"

"Dumbledore?" whispered Ron, leaning in a bit so no one would hear him.

Harry scrambled to his feet and shoved his own essay in his bag.

"I'll wait up for you," Ron said as Harry put the lid back on his bottle of ink.

"Yeah, thanks," Harry muttered distractedly. Ron watched a Harry left hurriedly through the portrait hole.

Ron stared after him for a few minutes, lost in his own thoughts. Dumbledore's lessons with Harry were interesting enough but he really couldn't see how they were going to stop Harry becoming Death Eater food. Still, it was Dumbledore. If anybody had a plan to get Harry through all of this safely, it was him.

Sighing, Ron got up and moved to the chair Harry had just vacated, partly because it was a nicer chair and, not only did he get more table space, but he also got to stare out of the window when he became bored of his essay. As this was highly likely (who cared how to protect yourself from lethifolds, really?), he thought this move was a good idea.

He was soon proved wrong however. Sat by the window were Ginny and her friends. Arnold the pygmy puff was running circuits around their legs. With their OWLs coming up, they were probably supposed to be revising but instead they were playing gobstones. As a prefect and her older brother Ron felt he should probably make them stop but that was the sort of thing Hermione would do. At the minute, the less things that reminded him of Hermione, the better.

Since the New Year he had been becoming increasingly desperate to get back on speaking terms with her. When on Christmas Day he had not got a present from her and instead had received that… thing… from Lavender, he had started to miss her. By the time Percy had shown his ugly mug, Ron had needed to speak to her. Normally, when he would rant about Percy to her she would understand and find a way to calm him down. When he told Lavender that Percy had visited on Christmas day she had said "Oh, that must have been nice" and had started snogging him.

He had been with Lavender for three months now. How did she not know the most basic things about him?

When they had got back to Hogwarts, Ron hoped that if he showed he was willing to put their fight behind them then maybe she would be too. Instead, she had completely ignored him. It was worse than before, at least when she was angry she had cared. This new indifference was harder to take than rabid canaries.

What Ron wouldn't give to disappear into a world where he and Harry had decided to take the scenic route back to Gryffindor Tower that night, instead of going through the tapestry… A world where he was blissfully unaware of Hermione's past romantic escapades and he could pretend that Krum really was always just her friend…

Ron groaned and rubbed his tired eyes. He felt like such a _girl _admitting it but now he wasn't angry with Hermione he could see why he had been so upset by the news of Hermione and Krum. Somewhere in his mind, in the place between dreams and fantasies, he had always thought he would eventually end up with Hermione. Deep down he had wanted her to be his first kiss, not snog, _kiss_. It would be perfect, the two of them, discovering it all for the first time, together. He had been waiting for her but she hadn't been waiting for him. The thought went through him like a knife and he resolved, as he did most nights, to stop thinking about her.

Like clockwork, Hermione arrived to ruin his resolution and to tell Ginny and her friends to keep the noise down and Ron couldn't help but smile. She was born to be a prefect. It would be a crime against nature if she wasn't made Head Girl next year. Ron loved the way her eyes lit up when she was annoyed with something, her hair crackling with static when she was really hacked off and, best of all, that superior look on her face when she outsmarted someone who was giving her back chat. Three months ago he hated that look. Now he missed it terribly.

It was this that had shocked Ron more than anything, the way he would reminisce about the parts of Hermione that he had once despised but now would pay top galleon to see again. He was still doing his homework at the same lazy pace but he wished someone would nag him to do it quicker. When he swore he could almost hear her exclamation. When she answered a question right in class he wanted to roll his eyes at her but instead the sound of her voice made him want to punch something.

They had fought before but never for this long. Even when he had thought that stupid cat of hers had eaten Scabbers they had made up. Remembering her crying on his shoulder outside of the portrait hole, he found himself missing even overly emotional Hermione. Hell, he even missed Crookshanks.

Why were they even fighting? He was angry about Vicky but he was willing to overlook it now. She was annoyed over not being able to go to Slughorn's party with him but she found a new date soon enough, didn't she? Even if she had meant it as a date, she couldn't possibly feel the same way as he did. If she did she wouldn't be able to ignore him like this while he could barely contain himself around her.

This had gone on long enough, Ron thought, slamming '_Facing the Faceless'_ shut. They were both too stubborn for their own good but they were still best friends. Ron didn't care if he spoke, whispered or screamed, he just had to say something to her.

Hermione had settled herself down at a table in the corner and kept shooting glances at Ginny, to make sure she was working. Ron stood and started towards her. It was only when he was halfway across the common room that he realised he had no idea what to say.

Unfortunately, when Ron stopped to think, Hermione looked up and saw him approaching. She closed the book she had just opened and got up. She swung her bag over her shoulder and marched towards the portrait hole.

"Hey! Hey- Hermione!" Ron called after her. She stopped but didn't turn to face him.

Ron had no idea what to say or do but knew he couldn't back out now. He was never going to work up the courage to confront her again.

"Hermione, I- I'm-"

"You're _what,_ Ron?" snapped Hermione, spinning around.

Ron froze. He stared into her furious face and saw nothing but hatred. The last time their eyes had met, they had been filled with anger but he was used to that. Well, maybe not at that intensity but still, angry Hermione he could deal with. This was something else. Hermione had never looked like she hated him before.

She raised her eyebrows at his continued silence. He had to fix this before it got any worse.

"Hermione, I'm sor-"

"Won-Won!"

Ron felt a pair of hands block his vision and his hope crash around him. He grabbed Lavender's wrists and yanked them away from his face and saw a flash of brown hair disappear through the portrait hole. Ron knew she would go to the library because that was Hermione; in times of trouble, go to the library.

"What, Lavender?" Ron snapped as she moved in front of him. That stupid smile of hers faded a little at his tone.

"I just wanted to surprise you," she mumbled, looking hurt. Her heavily made up eyes widened to make her look more innocent. When she started batting her magically lengthened eyelashes, Ron caved.

"Sorry, Lavender," he said. "I'm just having a tough day. Snape's essay."

Lavender pulled him into a tight hug that did nothing but leave Ron feeling cold and smiled up at him.

"Don't worry about silly homework now," she said, playing with the back of his hair. "I'm here."

"I really should do it though. It's due in-"

"Fine!" screeched Lavender, letting go of Ron. "If you would rather do _work _than spend time with me, that's fine!"

Wondering how on earth girls coped with their own mood swings, Ron slumped down on the chair nearest to him. There was a lot of truth in what Lavender had said, he would rather do work than spend time with her. Ron was startled by this revelation. He never expected himself to put homework before snogging.

However, snogging Lavender wasn't what it once was. At first it was new and exciting but now it was just too much. Lavender herself was too much but kissing her was more of a work out than Quidditch practise. Plus Ron didn't like being near her anymore. She was always in his space or touching him. It was suffocating. Lately she'd definitely been over-stepping boundaries, her hands wandering way below his belt. It took all of his self-restraint to stop her; an inner battle where half of him screamed at the other half to let her touch him. He felt bad enough as it was, leading her on like this. If he let their 'relationship' progress, like she kept hinting at him to do, then he didn't know how he could live with himself.

He had taken to letting his mind wander whenever they were together. She would open her mouth and his brain would rush off to the Quidditch pitch. Even when they were kissing, he pondered the greater mysteries of the universe (How Snape could sneer at him via the written feedback of his potions essay among them) rather than think about Lavender. Sometimes he had pretended he was snogging Hermione instead. While this meant kissing Lavender became bearable, it had the downfall of him having to remember it was actually Lavender he was kissing. He had accidently called her Hermione twice now and had somehow managed to get away with it. Ron doubted he would be able to a third time.

Ron looked up to see Lavender storming out of the portrait hole. He had no idea where she was going.

* * *

Hermione was in the library and had been for most of the morning. She had gotten up extra early on purpose because she wanted to get away from the common room or anywhere else that Ron was likely to be today. He hated being in the library on a normal day but he would've probably gone mad at the idea of coming here on his birthday. Hermione could just see the look of horror on his face if she had ever suggested it.

Of course, she wouldn't see it as they still weren't talking. It had been three and a half months now. Hermione was still furious with him and it tore her to shreds to see him all over Lavender, she had just got better at hiding it. She had no desire to see whatever ill-fitting gift Lavender had gotten him. She had heard her discussing what he might like with Parvati a couple of weeks ago in their dormitory. The conversation had amused Hermione as much as it had upset her. Lavender had decided to get Ron a bar of Raspberry flavour Honeydukes chocolate ("It's his favourite"), a maroon scarf ("Wouldn't it look lovely with his jumper?") and a gold bracelet with their initials carved on it ("He lost the necklace I got him for Christmas so I have to replace it"). Hermione had sat silently pretending to read on her bed in disbelief. Ron's favourite Honeydukes flavour was peanut butter and honeycomb, everybody knew he hated maroon with a passion and the idea of him wearing any kind of jewellery nearly made her laugh aloud.

Hermione had found herself planning what she would've got Ron had he been deserving of a present. Some kind of chocolate was a given, along with some sort of Quidditch related item. She would've found a book he thought he might like as always. The past couple of years she could've sworn he had actually read the books she had got him. Of course, it was his seventeenth so she would've had to have brought him something special…

It was then that it hit her; Ron was coming of age and she was going to miss it.

Hermione slammed the book she was staring at shut. Massaging her temples with her fingers, she reminded herself that this was his fault, all his fault. Three and a half months and she was still finding new ways to be angry with him. Hermione found herself wondering, and not for the first time, if they would ever be friends again, or if she would ever want to be friends with him again.

"You alright?"

Hermione looked up to see Ginny smiling kindly at her. She sat down opposite her and started to get her books out.

"I'm fine," said Hermione curtly, opening her book again at a random page.

"Well then, you won't want to hear what Lavender was saying earlier then…" Ginny sighed and unfurled a half-finished essay. Hermione ignored her. She had no interest in anything Lavender Brown said.

"Shame, really," Ginny continued, dipping her quill in her ink. "She sounded quite upset."

Hermione's head snapped up. Ginny smirked.

"Go on then, what did she say?" asked Hermione, trying not to sound too eager.

Ginny leant forward so nobody else would hear them.

"Well, when I came down for breakfast she was talking hysterically to Parvati," she said in a low voice. "So naturally, I listened in."

Hermione gave her a reproving look and Ginny raised her eyebrows at her.

"Don't act like you wouldn't have. Anyway," she continued, "apparently when her Prince Witless came down this morning, he completely ignored her."

"Really?" whispered Hermione shocked.

"Actually no, he told her to go away, which is even funnier," chuckled Ginny.

Hermione was stunned. What could this possibly mean? Was he finally bored of Lavender?

"What did she do?" Hermione asked, abandoning her indifferent front.

"She didn't get chance to say anything. He stormed off with Harry, wanting to see Romilda Vane."

"_Romilda Vane?_"

Ginny nodded and there was a slight pause.

"That makes absolutely no sense," said Hermione dumbfounded.

"I know," said Ginny distractedly, re-reading her essay, her brow furrowed.

Hermione continued to ponder Ron's bizarre behaviour a long time after the conversation was finished. She could think of no reason why he would want to see Romilda Vane, let alone why Harry would accompany him. Concentrating on her work became nearly impossible, which frustrated her greatly. She had come to the library to escape Ron but as always he had squirmed his way to the forefront on her mind. Scowling, Hermione redoubled her efforts to complete her homework.

After around twenty minutes, a small second year nervously approached the table where the two girls were sat.

"Ginny Weasley?" she asked timidly.

Ginny looked up at the sound of her name and smiled in a friendly way at the girl.

"That's me," she said brightly.

The girl gave a small cough and continued talking.

"Professor McGonagall asked me to tell you to go to her office as soon as possible," she mumbled.

"Oh. Right," Ginny replied, wide eyed. "Did she say why?"

"No, only that you should get there quickly."

Ginny looked very confused by all of this. The girl gave them a small smile and walked away while Ginny packed up her things into her bag and stood up.

"What have you done?" asked Hermione shrewdly.

"Nothing!" protested Ginny. "At least nothing McGonagall knows about…"

Hermione laughed and wished Ginny luck before returning to her essay.

It was a good hour before Hermione had finished and decided to grab some lunch. She was slightly concerned that Ginny hadn't returned but decided that she had probably just gone to lunch herself or was with her other friends. She put her books away and started making her way to the Great Hall.

She was walking down a corridor on the first floor when she saw Professor Slughorn approaching from the opposite direction. While she didn't dislike him, she didn't particularly like him either but she couldn't see any way of avoiding a conversation with him.

"Hello, Professor," she said brightly and smiled at him.

"Ah, Miss Granger!" he exclaimed. "Always a pleasure, I see you've been working as usual."

"I was just finishing your essay actually, Professor."

Slughorn turned his hands palm-up and looked towards the ceiling, a huge smile spreading under his thick moustache.

"Of course you were, my dear, of course you were," he said, his overly loud tone embarrassing Hermione somewhat. "I look forward to reading it as ever."

Hermione smiled awkwardly. She always appreciated praise but Slughorn always laid it on a bit too thick.

"Oh, how is your friend Ralf by the way?" he suddenly asked, frowning slightly.

Hermione's heart sank. She had a sneaking suspicion of whom Slughorn was referring to but wasn't in the mood to discuss it.

"I don't have any friends named Ralf, sir," she said politely.

Slughorn frown deepened. Hermione was a little irritated by his forgetting Ron's name. While she was angry with him, she still didn't approve of Slughorn's ignorance.

"I think I've forgotten his name…" he said wonderingly. "Red hair? Rather tall?"

Hermione swallowed. She wouldn't be able to feign ignorance much longer.

"It's his birthday today?"

"Do you mean Ron, sir?" Hermione asked expressionlessly.

Slughorn clapped his hands together jubilantly.

"Yes, of course, Ron," he said loudly. "How is he?"

She didn't want to go into the messy details of her and Ron's relationship so she decided to give Slughorn part of the truth and hope he wasn't too inquisitive. She wondered why Slughorn was so concerned about Ron, when he could barely remember his name.

"I, um, wouldn't know, Sir," she explained. "I haven't spoken to him today."

_Or the day before that and the day before that…_

"Ah yes, well I'm sure he'll be fine," Slughorn muttered, looking uncomfortable all of a sudden. "I was going to visit him but I've been rather busy…"

Hermione furrowed her brow. She had no idea what Slughorn was taking about. Against her better judgement, she let her curiosity get the better of her.

"If you don't mind me asking, Sir," she began tentatively. "Why would you visit Ron?"

Slughorn blanched.

"Have- have you not heard what happened this morning?" he asked, looking distressed.

Hermione shook her head, dread filling her veins.

"Well, there was a little accident and, well, he was sort of poisoned. Horrid affair really…"

Hermione had stopped paying attention to the Potions Master and started backing away in horror. When she remembered how to use her legs, she ran full pelt towards the hospital wing.

Ron had been poisoned. She had no idea how or why but she didn't care. She distantly heard Slughorn calling after her but she didn't reply. Nothing made sense. Her mind seemed to have ground to a halt and was travelling at the speed of light at the same time. She could feel herself breaking out into a cold sweat and was starting to feel faint but she didn't stop.

Ron couldn't be dead. He was going to be fine. He had to be. Suddenly Lavender didn't matter anymore. Neither did party invitations nor canaries nor did anything else that five minutes ago had been so important to her. All that mattered was that Ron was critically ill and she couldn't remember the last polite thing she had said to him. He was one of her best friends and he had been in a hospital bed for goodness knows how long and she didn't even know about it. She had found out only by accident.

Sprinting up a third staircase, she became numbly aware of a stitch in the chest but ignored it. She loved Ron. So what if he didn't feel the same? So what if she would never be his girlfriend? She was still one of his closest friends and that should be enough for her. Being around him and Lavender was nothing compared to the pain and fear she felt now. She could put up with Lavender if only Ron was alright. In fact, she would welcome it if it meant Ron was still breathing.

As she hurtled around the corner to the hospital wing corridor, Harry and Ginny pacing outside the door, she promised herself she would never risk her friendship with Ron again because of jealousy. He saw their relationship as platonic and she had imagined everything she thought she had seen that contradicted this. She had thought she had wanted Ron to herself. She had thought she could hate him. This was all so insignificant, she realised. All she wanted now was to be able to speak to him again. She would never forgive herself if she was too late.

* * *

Ron blearily opened his eyes. Squinting against the bright light coming from somewhere, he tried to shield his eyes, but his arms were too heavy to move and a dull ache gripped his chest painfully. He couldn't work out where he was, although he was fairly certain he was lying down. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the light and he opened them. Everything was rather hazy but he could make out a person sat on his right. For a moment he thought it was Hermione because of the fuzzy brown halo he could see surrounding a pale face, but it couldn't be her. She hated him.

Blinking, he tried to sit up but couldn't. Obviously Ron had no idea but he was fairly certain that the only thing that could make his entire body protest like this was being hit by the Hogwarts Express. He opened his mouth to call out but he could only manage a groan. At the noise, the person next to him moved closer and spoke to him.

"Ron?"

It was Hermione's voice. It sounded grainy and hoarse but it was definitely hers.

"My-Nee?" he groaned back. His throat felt red raw.

He heard her whimper slightly and felt her hand cover his. Ron started to panic; either he was dreaming or he was dead.

"How're you feeling?" she asked. She sounded so worried… it put him on edge.

"My dead?"

Hermione laughed shakily. "No, Ron," she breathed. "You're ok."

This still didn't make any sense. Why was she here? Where was here anyway?

"Where a my?" he asked groggily.

"The hospital wing," she explained.

"Always… bloody… hospital wing…"

Ron should have learnt by now; if he woke up somewhere, in pain, he would be in a bed and Madam Pomfrey would be nearby. He heard her half laugh, half sob at his comment.

"Yesterday morning you were- you were p-poisoned but you're going to be fine," Hermione whispered.

Poisoned? He blinked again and looked at his surroundings that were becoming clearer by the minute. He was definitely in the hospital wing and it looked as though he was the only patient. Ron started groping the depths of his memory, trying to put together yesterday's events. Why would he have been poisoned?

Before he could question her about it, he heard some water being poured into a glass that was soon being brought to his chapped lips. He drank greedily and felt the burning sensation in his throat lessen. When the glass empty, Hermione sat down again and Ron mumbled a thank you. Ron couldn't remember what happened yesterday to make her start to care for him again so he tried to wrack his brains once more.

"Birthday," he mumbled, trying to sit up. He still couldn't but he managed to pull himself a little higher on his pillows.

Hermione looked concerned at him trying to move. "Yes, Ron, it was your birthday. You ate some chocolate that was spiked with love potion by accident-"

"Romilda Vane?" The pictures were starting to form in his head but they seemed to have happened in a dream. Hermione half smiled at him being able to remember this small detail.

"Romilda gave them to Harry and he never threw them away. Anyway, Harry took you to Slughorn and he gave you the cure," Hermione explained quickly. The colour suddenly drained from her face. "Then he gave you some mead to cheer you up and- and- well, it had poison in it. Harry gave you a bezoar and then you were brought here. Your parents were here for most of the night but they wouldn't let the twins, Harry, Ginny or I stay. Apparently you woke up later in the evening but you weren't really with it," she finished in a low voice.

Ron stared at her worried face and tried to get his brain in gear. Someone had tried to poison him and Harry had saved his life. None of this yet explained why Hermione was here but he didn't want to breach the subject; maybe she had just forgotten their falling out, he thought optimistically.

"Should probably watch what I eat in the future," he said, smiling with great effort.

Hermione gave him a small smile in agreement.

"Do you know who it was?" he asked, scared of the answer. He couldn't work out why someone would attack him.

Hermione shook her head. "Dumbledore is really worried. It's just like Katie all over again."

Ron looked out of the window opposite his bed. He had nearly died yesterday and nobody knew why. If he wasn't so groggy, he would be terrified but instead he was just confused.

"Where's Harry? I think I owe him a thank you," he said wryly. It seemed strange that his best friend wasn't here but the girl who couldn't stand to be in his presence was.

"Oh, he's down at breakfast," she replied, fiddling with the hem of her robes, unable to meet his eyes. Ron felt he was getting closer to a reason for Hermione's sudden forgiveness but she seemed reluctant to discuss it.

"So how come you're her- I mean, not at breakfast too?" he corrected himself quickly. Ron was desperate to know but didn't want to appear to be.

Hermione's cheeks started to go pink. "Oh, I wasn't really hungry."

Now that his vision was almost back to normal, he could see that Hermione looked quite ill. She had bags under her red-tinged eyes and her hair was bushier than usual. It looked as though she hadn't slept very well.

"So… why are you here?"

Ron looked at her and hoped she would return his gaze. Instead, Hermione seemed fascinated by her knees. It had been so long since Ron had been able to see her this closely without her walking off and he couldn't help but stare. He had expected her to have changed somehow but she hadn't. She was the same Hermione she had been after the Quidditch match. For some reason, this was a great comfort to Ron.

Eventually, when she could no longer avoid the question, she shrugged and looked at him.

"I was worried… about you," she whispered. Ron's imagination went into overdrive and he saw Hermione in his mind's eye crying herself to sleep in Gryffindor Tower, not knowing if he was going to be alright. This image sent waves of guilt crashing over him for his behaviour over the past few months. He realised his pride was nowhere near as important as the girl who was skipping breakfast to sit next to his hospital bed in spite of everything that had happened between them.

"Look, Hermione," he began, unsure of exactly what he was going to say. "I'm so so-"

"It's fine, Ron," Hermione cut in. "So am I."

The two friends grinned sheepishly at each other. Despite being in a fair bit of pain, Ron felt a balloon of joy inflate inside of him; Hermione had never hated him, she had just been exceedingly angry.

Suddenly the hospital doors opened and Lavender Brown stormed in, looking deeply upset. She saw Ron lying in bed and ran over to him. Ron's stomach sank. He had completely forgotten about her. Ron exchanged a worried glance with Hermione, who looked as though she wanted to throw herself under the bed and hide.

"Won-Won!" she wailed. "I only just heard about-"

Lavender stopped just short of Ron's bed and finally noticed Hermione. Before Lavender could even begin to process her presence, Hermione, blushing furiously, had stood up.

"Well, look after yourself, Ron," blurted out and started making her way to the exit before Ron could reply.

Ron stared after her before Lavender's voice brought his attention back to her.

"I thought you two weren't friends anymore. Why was she here? How did she find out before me, _your girlfriend_? Ron? What's going on?"

Ron gaped at Lavender standing in front of him, hands on her hips, her face a picture of fury. This was going to be a very horrible conversation and he found himself wishing, and not for the first time, that Lavender wasn't the girl he was in a relationship with.

* * *

_A/N 2: Yes, yes I know a HBP hospital wing scene, very original. The reason I wrote it was to show that no explanation was given on either side as to why the fight happened. I've read fics where Ron admits he knows about Krum, Hermione admits she was jealous and they still don't manage to get together, which seems a bit unrealistic to me. This way Hermione is just glad that Ron's alive, Ron is just happy to be speaking to her again and nothing is truly sorted, leading to more unanswered questions and UST. Ron and Hermione - King and Queen of communication as ever._

_Although if you think this was just yet another 'HBP Hermione visiting Ron' fic then I'm sorry. I promise to do better next time. _


	11. Shades of Lavender: Transparent

_A/N: Again thank you to all of you amazing reviewers/alerters/favouriters. One day we can all get together and I'll shower you with gifts __but in the mean time I'll keep including you in A/Ns._

_Special thanks to **InkTeardrops** for being my 50th reviewer. While all reviews are equally special in my mind, that one was extra special._

_A quick note while I'm here - J.K Rowling, if you're reading this (I can dream, can't I?), I would happily sacrifice any sequels, prequels or any other Star Wars-esque spin-offs if you would just write your own version (IE The proper version) of Chess and Change. Of all the potential missing moments from all of the books, this (including Ron and Harry's conversation) is the one I would love to see the most. Your loyal servant, HalfASlug._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. Anyone who didn't know this should probably just leave now._

* * *

** Shades of Lavender: Transparent **

(_ Chess and change / Train to nowhere_ )

"Ron?"

"He…"

"Ron?"

"She…"

"Ron, look at me."

"But they…"

"Put the trophy down, Ron."

"Snogging…"

"I know, I was there. Please put the trophy down."

"My _sister…_"

"Ron, calm down."

"Harry snogged my _sister_!"

"Yeah, he did," joked Seamus.

Hermione shot Seamus a quelling look and he hurried away. She looked back at Ron, who was still staring at the portrait hole after his best friend and sister, mouth open.

His best friend, who he had sincerely consoled before he had gone off to serve another agonising detention.

His sister, who not half an hour ago he had hugged tightly before she threatened to hex him for such a public display of sibling affection.

While she was happy for the pair of them, she wished they had chosen a better moment. Or at least made sure Ron wasn't in the room. As soon as they had left, Hermione had hastened to find him in the crowd to see how he was coping. He wasn't.

"But- but it's Ginny!" he spluttered. Ron's face was pale and he was still clinging to the Quidditch cup as though it was life line. Deciding heavy silverware wasn't the best thing for Ron to have in his possession in his current mood, Hermione pulled it from his grasp and set it down on the nearby table. Colin Creevey hurried to pick it up and started running around singing 'Weasley is our King'.

When Ron didn't seem to notice he wasn't holding the cup anymore, Hermione put a tentative hand on his arm. He reacted to her touch immediately and looked down at her as though he had only just realised she was there.

"This is mental," he grumbled. "My sister…"

"Ron, please calm down," Hermione said, rubbing his arm slightly. Over his shoulder she could see Lavender staring daggers at her. A week ago Hermione would've guiltily stopped touching Ron but things had changed. Last Saturday night, after Harry had already gone to bed, she and Ron were sat by the fire in the common room as she helped him with his Potions essay. However, Ron, as usual, was more focused on joking around and, for once, Hermione had joined him. Normally she would have nagged him to do his work but he had nearly finished it and she had missed just spending time with him. He wasn't with Lavender anymore and they were both happier for it.

The common room was nearly empty when they had bade each other goodnight and headed to their dormitories. Hermione had barely got to the top of the stairs when she heard Lavender smash the door at the bottom open. As Hermione entered the bedroom, Lavender stormed in after her and started accusing her of stealing her boyfriend. While annoyed and embarrassed at being shouted at, Hermione calmly repeated to Lavender that it was not like that, that she and Ron weren't together. This was followed by more dire accusations from a tearful Lavender.

Hermione had tried to calm Lavender down but to no avail. She couldn't help feeling guilty for being happy about her and Ron splitting up. It was obvious that she was taking the break up a lot harder than Ron. Hermione's guilt continued to grow until Lavender, spit flying from her mouth, shrieked that Hermione was a "frumpy bitch who was just jealous that she had gotten closer to Ron in a few months than she had in six years."

At this, Hermione saw red and screamed that Lavender was an "idiotic bimbo and maybe if she had spent less time looking in the mirror, she would've noticed her relationship was a ridiculous sham from the start."

The argument quickly escalated and soon both girls were shouting at each other from across the room.

After about five minutes, Sally-Anne Perks had come into the room and informed the irate pair that they could be heard from the common room. Without looking at Lavender, Hermione sheepishly apologised to Sally-Anne and climbed onto her bed, roughly pulling the hangings around her.

She hadn't told Ron or Harry about the argument and neither of them seemed to notice that she and Lavender didn't as much as look at each other anymore.

"Look, let's get out of here," Hermione whispered to Ron. Around them several Gryffindor's were shamelessly listening in and she thought it would be prudent to let Ron have his melt down in private. "Let's- let's go to your dormitory and play chess, ok?"

Ron nodded vaguely and Hermione took his hand and led him to the stairs. She didn't want to risk bumping into Harry and Ginny out in the castle and besides, the look on Lavender's face was priceless. Hermione wasn't a cruel or vindictive person but she definitely took some satisfaction from it.

When they reached the dormitory, Ron sat down on his bed and stared at the opposite wall while Hermione collected the chess set from his bedside table. Playing chess had always cheered Ron up. It took his mind off things and she knew that he loved beating her at something.

She sat down in the middle of his bed and crossed her legs, setting the chess board up in front of her. Ron swung his legs round so he was facing her. Once the game was set up, Hermione looked up and saw Ron staring at her.

"Are you ok?" she asked. He still looked very pale.

"Erm… I-I think so," Ron muttered. Hermione raised her eyebrows at him. "I'm just in shock."

She continued looking at him sceptically until reality caught up with him and he flung his arms in the air.

"Where the hell did it come from? I mean, I knew Ginny _used _to like Harry but you said she didn't anymore!" he said accusingly. Hermione sighed. Sometimes she found it hard to believe that Ron could be so clueless.

"That's what she wanted him to think," she explained. "Really, she liked Harry all along."

Ron gaped at her. "That's mental! Why can't girls just say what they mean? This whole thing is mental… Harry doesn't even like Ginny!" he exclaimed.

"You just saw him kiss her."

Rom gawped at Hermione.

"Why are you so calm about all of this?" he fumed.

Hermione considered the chess board in front of her before she replied. The pieces were muttering amongst themselves impatiently. "Pawn to C4. Harry has liked Ginny for ages. I was sort of expecting it."

"WHAT? He- he told you?" cried Ron, looking as though he had recently sustained a head injury.

"No, but he didn't have to," Hermione said calmly. "It was pretty obvious."

"H-how?" he asked weakly.

Hermione gave him a pitying look. He looked adorable when he was so wound up and out of his depth.

"For the past few months Harry has been spending a lot of time with her-"

"They're on the Quidditch team-"

"He laughs at all her jokes-"

"She _can _be funny when she wants-"

"He was _far _too interested in what was going on with her and Dean-"

"Yeah, well look how that ended-"

"For the past few months he hasn't been able to keep his eyes off of her! He just sits in the common room staring at her!"

Ron opened his mouth several times in an attempt to reply but no noise came out. Hermione smelt victory.

"Didn't you find it strange that the night her and Dean split up was the night he took Felix Felicis?" she asked sympathetically.

Eyes widening, Ron gave a shaky laugh as though he hoped Harry and Ginny were going to burst into the room and reveal this was some hideous attempt at a prank. "I was a little preoccupied that night, remember?"

Of course Hermione remembered. That was the same night Lavender had dumped him. As soon as she had seen them coming down the stairs she had demanded to know what he had been doing alone with Hermione. Sensing her presence wasn't wanted, Hermione had attempted to skulk into the background and sneak away, a difficult feat to accomplish, especially with the common room's many occupants staring at her. It was made impossible by Ron, who had instinctively grabbed the sleeve of her robes so she couldn't leave.

While she couldn't believe the cheek and cowardice of this action, she couldn't help but notice that Ron took every insult thrown at him but only fought back in her defence. Besides, Hermione felt that she possibly deserved a bit of Lavender's tirade. After all, she had been spending a lot of time with her _'boyfriend'_.

"Was it really that obvious?" Ron mumbled some time later. He looked thoroughly downcast.

Hermione grimaced in an empathetic way.

"I thought I was getting better at stuff like this… I noticed that L-Lavender fancied me," he mumbled bashfully, looking away from her.

"Trust me, noticing that people fancy you really isn't your strong point," Hermione muttered under her breath. Ron was regarding her with a curious expression, as though he didn't know how to proceed. It was then Hermione realised what she had said. Horrified, she added, "Or who anybody else fancies." She could feel the heat rising in her face.

"Are you going to make a move or not?" she snapped, unable to take the pressure.

"W-what?" spluttered Ron weakly.

"Chess," she squeaked. "It's your move."

Sure that she could have fried an egg on her face, Hermione averted her eyes away from Ron's expression. Why couldn't she control what she was saying? To try and distract herself, she started playing with a loose thread in the duvet. It was then she noticed she was, not only alone with Ron, but sat on his bed and she felt her stomach drop a few hundred feet.

"Oh. Yeah," coughed Ron. "Pawn to E6."

The game continued in near enough silence, the two of them caught up in their own thoughts. Hermione felt a rare victory coming on, which she felt quite proud of even though Ron wasn't on top form. Unfortunately, as the game progressed, Ron seemed to be recovering the afternoon's events and stopped making stupid mistakes, making it a lot harder. Despite this, after ten minutes Hermione sat back and proudly announced "Check."

To her discomfort, Ron grinned at her, his eyes flashing mischievously and said "Knight to H3."

Ron's knight smugly moved forward and kicked her castle violently off the board.

"And stay out!" it roared while Ron's king cheered. Hermione's queen threw herself onto her knees and started pounding her tiny fists on floor.

"Checkmate," Ron declared.

Hermione stared at him a little annoyed. It was nice to see him returning to his usual self but Hermione secretly hated losing to him. "You planned that, didn't you?"

Ron nodded in response and started resetting the board looking pleased with himself. Hermione shook her head disbelievingly. "How do you do that?" she asked weakly.

"Superior intellect," he replied, puffing out his chest.

Hermione arched a brow and they both burst out laughing. For a minute, Hermione tried to imagine what would be happening now if he hadn't been poisoned. For one thing, she would probably be sat in her own dormitory, trying to avoid the party and, in particular Ron and Lavender. Or would he still be with her? She knew it was Lavender's jealousy that had tipped her over the edge but without the horrific events of Ron's birthday Hermione wouldn't have been around to cause this. Or would she? Could they have made up without one of them nearly dying?

As Ron threw a pillow at her, she came to the conclusion that they would have eventually found a way back to each other. Whatever other complications they threw into the mix, the fact remained that they were best friends. They were Hermione and Ron. Along with Harry, they formed the closest friendship group that Hogwarts had probably ever seen. Feigning annoyance, she chucked the pillow back his face. It was always going to take more than Lavender Brown to truly ruin their friendship.

For a change though, it wasn't her and Ron's friendship at risk and Hermione still had damage control to do.

"What are you going to say to Harry?" she asked quietly. Ron dropped the pillow and looked uncomfortable.

"Dunno," he shrugged. "It's just… it's _Ginny_, y'know?"

"Yes, but it's also Harry," Hermione replied simply.

Ron looked at the abandoned chess game in front of him, frowning slightly.

"You said yourself that you would rather it be Harry. You even suggested her going to the Yule Ball with him."

For a while there was silence. Hermione knew Ron was very protective of Ginny but his trust in Harry was just as strong.

"Look," Hermione sighed, leaning forward and putting her hand on Ron's, ignoring the tingle in her fingers. "You're his best friend. If it had been any other girl he would've probably asked her out weeks ago but because it was your sister he didn't. He knows what you're like with her boyfriends and you know he wouldn't do anything to risk your friendship; it means too much to him."

Ron wrinkled his nose. Hermione thought of this as his he-knows-I'm-right-but-won't-admit-it face. She always loved to see this face; it tended to mean she was about to get her own way or win the argument.

"Harry has had a rough couple of years, between everything with Voldemort-" (Ron flinched but she ignored him) "-and Sirius dying," Hermione almost whispered. "If Ginny makes him happy then please don't ruin it for him."

Hermione watched as Ron swallowed and nodded his head jerkily. While it was hardly an open declaration of support for his best friend and sister's new relationship, Hermione knew how hard this was for him and that it was as good as she was going to get. If this had happened a year ago she suspected Ron would've just punched Harry straight away and it hit her how much he had matured. There was still a long way to go, she thought, remembering the pillow fight, but this was definitely progress.

"Now, how about another-"

"Oh!"

Hermione span around as she heard the door behind her open. She found herself facing an incredibly unsettled looking Harry, his hair messier than usual. An awkward silence swelled around them as Ron and Harry avoided looking at each other. Hermione turned to Ron and gave him stern look before she got off the bed and walked towards the door.

"I'll leave you two to talk," she mumbled, wondering if she should confiscate their wands. As she passed Harry she gave him a small smile that he guiltily returned.

When she got to the common room, she found Ginny lingering by the door that led to the boy's dormitories. Seeing Hermione emerge, she raised her eyebrows.

"What were you doing up there?" Ginny smirked. Hermione noticed her red hair was also looking a bit ruffled and wondered if she would bother to fix it before she saw Ron.

"Playing chess," she replied with dignity. "What were _you _doing out there?"

A huge smile crept onto Ginny's face and Hermione couldn't help but grin back. She knew how much this meant to her.

"I believe I owe you an 'I told you so'," Hermione said, heading towards a free table by the window.

"And I have never been happier to gracefully receive it." Ginny pretty much skipped after her.

The two girls sat down, took one look at each other and started giggling uncontrollably.

"Ron's going to kill him, isn't he?" chuckled Ginny.

"Quite possibly," replied Hermione, glancing nervously at the door between laughs.

"Well, let's hope the Boy-Who-Lived lives up to his name."

Hermione smiled. She had often thought the same thing but usually when Harry was facing unspeakable evil. It made a nice change to hear it in happier circumstances. Times like this, where they could all just act like normal teenagers, were few and far between, especially nowadays, and Hermione planned to savour them all.

* * *

Out of the window Ron could see Muggle London. In contrast to the greenery of the English country-side that he had grown accustomed to over the past few hours, it all looked rather bleak and grey. In fact, everything looked bleak and grey; including the bright purple leggings he had seen Luna wearing earlier. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. After having it neatly brushed for the funeral it made a nice change to have it standing up on end.

"Ron, do something with your hair. We're nearly there."

Clearly he was the only who thought so. He looked up at Hermione and met her eye. They stared at each other across the compartment for what could've been years before they both started to blush and Ron flattened his hair back down. Ever since the funeral something similar to this had happened several times; when Hermione had put her arm across Ron's chest to stop him walking into a timid looking first year that he hadn't spotted, after Ron had helped Hermione get her heavy trunk on the train, as Hermione offered Ron one of her pumpkin pasties.

The look. The stare. The blush. The avoidance.

To escape the chance of looking at Hermione again, Ron stared straight ahead at Harry who was gazing out of the window. He had been exceptionally quiet all day, but Ron had expected no less. What he hadn't expected was Ginny telling him in the common room that her and Harry were no longer together. After a few enquiries she relented that he had done the dumping. Ginny told him that she was fine. That she wasn't that shocked really. That, no really, she was _fine_. Ron could tell she was lying. He gave his baby sister a rare hug that he hoped would help.

Ron hadn't hugged Ginny properly in years, especially when Quidditch wasn't involved. They were close and always had been but since they had hit their teens they just didn't have that kind of relationship. They showed affection with teasing and if they ever said anything encouraging it was in private. It was the Weasley way.

Harry was his best friend. Ginny was his sister. Their break up, however amicable, put him in a difficult position. He knew why Harry had done it but at the end of the day he had upset Ginny and the protective older brother gene was roaring for his blood.

Ron was surprised to find he wasn't angry with Harry. He looked so withdrawn, so hollow at the minute, he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Harry had more important things to be thinking about than a girlfriend at the minute. They all did.

Feeling a headache coming on for the third time today, Ron leant his forehead on the window, hoping it would bring relief. On the cold glass he could make out his tried blue eyes and the five o'clock shadow around his jaw. Ron knew that he was immature, especially compared to Harry and Hermione, but right now he couldn't remember how to be. Normally he would crack jokes, play Exploding Snap or duel Malfoy but there were no jokes to be made, no one was in the mood for games and Malfoy was on the run.

When had life become this?

The Hogwarts Express slowed down to a halt and the three of them slowly gathered their things. Ron, without thinking, took Hermione's trunk down off the rack before his own and she looked pleasantly surprised as she thanked him.

It happened again.

The look. The stare.

Harry coughed somewhere in the distance, reminding them to complete the cycle.

The blush. The avoidance.

As they stepped off the train, Ron saw his mother, father and the twins' red hair through the smoke and started making his way over to them with Harry. When they had gotten close enough to see them properly, he noticed Hermione's parents were stood not far from them and she went over to see them.

He missed the short conversation Harry had with his mother while he absentmindedly watched Hermione hug her mother. Ron was shocked to see Mrs Granger glare at him over her daughters shoulder and her turned his attention back to his own family.

His mother had a disgruntled look on her face which told him that the Dursley's must be nearby and, sure enough, they were standing just to the left of them looking thoroughly out of place. Harry grimaced at the look of impatience on his uncle's face, hugged Ron's mother and shook hands with his father and brothers. Finally, he turned to Ron.

"I'll see you soon, yeah?"

"If I have to," Ron replied with a grin. The two of them smiled at each other and shook hands as Hermione re-joined them.

"Goodbye, Harry," she said, hugging him. "Write to me as soon as you get home. I know I'm going to see you soon but-"

"I know, Hermione," Harry cut in, hugging her back. "I'll write. I'll also be careful and avoid getting into trouble." He added when Hermione opened her mouth to speak. She closed it again, looking sheepish.

"Come on, Boy! I wouldn't put it past those bleeding traffic wardens to give me a ticket even if I did pay half a bloody fortune," shouted Harry's uncle from behind him.

Harry rolled his eyes and put his trunk on the trolley one of the Weasleys had fetched him.

"Parking tickets. Really puts our troubles in perspective, eh?" he grumbled.

"It's just one last summer, mate," consoled Ron.

"You won't even be there a month," added Hermione, looking as angry as she always did near Harry's family.

He gave them a small smile and headed towards the Dursleys. With one final wave, he was gone.

"He'll be ok," Ron said, more to himself than anyone else.

"Yeah, I know," he heard Hermione say. Neither of them believed their own words.

Ron turned back to see that he was alone with Hermione for the first time since the funeral. Suddenly he could feel the softness of her hair on his hand and her tears on his shoulder again. Whenever Hermione had been upset before he just felt awkward and unsure but this time he had hugged her without realising what he was doing. One minute they were sat next to each other, the next they were holding each other while she cried.

It was when he noticed that he was crying as well that Ron noted that this was the most intimate thing he had ever done with anybody. Yes, he was miserable. Yes, she was crying her eyes out. Yes, the world was going to hell in a hand basket but it didn't matter. He would swap every snog, grope and caress he had shared with Lavender for just a moment of Hermione in his arms.

"Well," began Hermione, "I guess this is goodbye."

Ron swallowed hard.

"Yeah. For now. More of a see you later really." He gave her quick smile. He had said goodbye to Hermione numerous times; why was it so hard now?

"Well, I'll see you later, Ron."

"See you later, Hermione."

They both turned slowly to walk towards their own families. Ron took two steps when he stopped and turned around.

"Hermione!" he called.

She stopped and turned to face him with a hopeful look on her face. Ron fought the urge to just run up to her and kiss her. Behind her, he could see her parents watching them. If it wasn't for Mrs Granger's beady eye, Ron thought he may not have been able to stop himself.

"Hermione, I-"

Before he could say the sentence he hadn't even finished in his head, Hermione had marched up to him and wrapped her arms securely around his neck. Ron squeezed her tightly around the middle.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a birthday present," she said softly.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you a Christmas present," Ron chuckled. "Next year, eh?"

He felt her nod against his shoulder.

"It's going to be ok," he whispered into her hair.

"I know. It's just- I'm going to miss you." Hermione's voice was trembling as she spoke. She was clearly fighting tears again.

Ron closed his eyes so he couldn't see the Grangers or anybody else on the platform. With the rest of the world shut out, all he could feel was Hermione and his chest nearly burst with the sensation.

This wasn't supposed to be his last year at Hogwarts. That wasn't meant to be his last ride on the Hogwarts Express. Dumbledore wasn't meant to be dead. Ron was seventeen. He wasn't supposed to be in the middle of a war. He wasn't supposed to fall helplessly in love with his best friend but it had happened. It had all happened. He clung to Hermione for some sense of reason and perspective. The world had span out of control. When had trolls and invisibility cloaks become Death Eaters and horcruxes? When had friendship turned into an adoration so deep it hurt to think of his life without her?

When had they grown up?

"I'll miss you too," he said.

They broke apart and looked at each other. Hermione opened her mouth but Ron beat her to it.

"I'll write, don't panic," he grinned.

Their eyes met. Ron stared into the dark brown, flecked with caramel and knew in that moment that they were no longer just friends. Something had changed between them. If only Ron could work out a way to make it materialise.

Neither of them blushed. Neither of them looked away.

"I'll probably see you in a couple of weeks," Hermione said as she straightened her jacket out.

"Yeah, we can sort out… everything," he finished with a glance at Hermione's parents. Mrs Granger seemed to be calming an agitated Mr Granger down. Ron realised that he had just seen his and Hermione's embrace and was probably putting two and two together the only way a father of a teenage daughter could. Ron felt a cold sweat coming on.

After the funeral, while they were waiting for Harry to finish packing, Hermione had pointed out that her parents would be in danger when they didn't return to Hogwarts. Ron wondered what Hermione's brilliant mind would come up with to keep them safe.

"Well, bye, Hermione."

"Goodbye, Ron."

One last smile and Ron watched her go back to her parents with a heavy weight in his heart.

"Any more obvious, little brother, and we will have to get you a badge made."

Ron span around to see the twins grinning at him evilly.

"What?" he asked, knowing he was falling into some kind of trap.

"Yeah, with 'I Heart Bookworms' written on it," said George, ignoring Ron completely.

Ron blanched. "What? No! I- I don't-"

Simultaneously the twins clapped their hands on Ron's shoulders.

"No point lying to us, Ronniekins," said Fred solemnly. "When little Ginevra told us about that Lavender girl we knew straight away that your heart wasn't in it."

"Neither was anything else," added George with a wink.

"Sod off," grumbled Ron.

Identical expressions of mock outrage flitted across Fred and Georges faces.

"How will we ever recover from such a witty onslaught?"

"If his remarks become anymore scathing I may have to start taking my teddy to bed with me again."

Ron gave his brothers an ugly look and went to head towards his parents but they held him back.

"Not so fast, Romeo-"

"Who?"

Fred and George shared a superior look before turning back to Ron.

"Ginny was right," said George, shaking his head despairingly. "Your ignorance to matters of the heart is astounding."

"Look," growled Ron. He really wasn't in the mood for the twins' taunts today, especially if it was because of information from his little sister. "If you haven't got anything important to say-"

"Ah, but we have," Fred sighed, his eyes twinkling.

"Remember when we gave dear old Harry the Marauder's Map?" asked George.

"Yeah," said Ron slowly.

"Remember how you were all annoyed and jealous?" inquired Fred.

"Well, I am your brother and you just-"

"We have something to give you that's better than the map."

"Yep, something just for family."

"See? We do care."

Ron looked at the innocent looks on their faces and knew he should be more suspicious.

"What is it?"

"A book," they replied in unison.

Ron raised his eyebrows sceptically. "A book?"

Fred pulled a book from his dragon skin jacket coat with a flourish while George did jazz hands.

"You may be dubious now," said Fred, handing Ron the book. "But soon you will be thanking us on bended knee."

Ron gave the twins another unconvinced look before reading the title of the book.

"And so will someone else we know in your immediate circle of friends," added George in an undertone and they left without another word.

Ron stared down at the book in his hands and saw a beautiful future ahead of him. He was sure that if anything could charm Hermione it would be a book. He jogged after the twins to re-join his family, convinced the summer wouldn't be so bleak and grey after all.

* * *

_Train to Nowhere_ is named after the Oliver Boyd and the Remembralls song of the same name. If you had any sense you would stop what you were doing and go and listen to it or anything else by them.


	12. Twelve FailSafe Ways To Charm Hermione

_A/N: Thanks to all of you lovely Reviewers/Alerters/Favouriters out there._

_Deathly Hallows. The book that has been stripped down by every fanfic writer over the past 5 years (I cannot believe it has been nearly 5 years) and had the missing moments and blanks spaces between the lines written and re-written to death and back. And then back to wherever it was Harry ended up when he was chatting to Dumbledore._

_Now, I'm not making excuses (I totally am) but I really couldn't avoid some of the most over-done moments but I have tried to make even the most over-written parts original in some way. This has resulted in many a desperate measure. I'm talking throwing everything from Luna Lovegood to abandoned gloves to threats of destroying Eastern Europe at this thing. Hell, even Rose and Hugo make an appearance (sort of). Hopefully, it has come together nicely._

_Sorry about the novella length A/N. Hope you enjoy the chapter._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own lots of Harry Potter merchandise. This makes her rich and me happy._

* * *

**Twelve Practically Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Hermione**

(_Hermione's parents / The Wedding: Krum Strikes Back_ )

"Hermione? Are you all right?"

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts and looked at her mother, who was regarding her with a look of concern. The honest answer was no, she was far from all right but it was essential that she stuck to the plan; do what had to be done and then Apparate to the Burrow where her possessions were waiting for her. Packing them up without her parents notice had been hard but she had managed it. Mrs Weasley had apparently questioned why she had needed so much more than usual, but everybody had said they didn't know. In actual fact all of the Wealeys except her knew what was happening although she was growing more suspicious by the day.

The most difficult part of the plan still remained. She had aimed to have completed it by now, the Weasleys had been expecting her to arrive three hours ago, but she had kept stalling. Every so often she would glance at the clock and think _five more minutes, just five more minutes._

"Yes, I'm fine, Mum," she replied. Her voice sounded higher than usual and her mother eyed her suspiciously but turning her attention back to the TV.

"You do look a bit peaky," commented her father, looking over the newspaper he was reading.

"Honestly, I'm fine." They were becoming suspicious. She knew she would have to do it soon. Originally, she had planned to perform the charms with them both in the same room, but she realised that whichever parent she cast the spell on second would probably have a lot of questions that Hermione didn't think she could face.

"Right," announced her father, folding up his paper and placing it on the coffee table, "I'm calling it a day."

He stood up and Hermione's stomach clenched. This was the perfect opportunity she had been both waiting for and dreading. He walked over to her mother, kissed her on the cheek and then proceeded to do the same to Hermione.

"Goodnight, all," he yawned and headed towards the living room door to the hallway.

Hermione's mother, who was engrossed in the crime drama she was watching, mumbled an indistinct reply. Hermione waited until she heard her father's footsteps reach the upstairs landing, then rose suddenly and followed him upstairs. Her mother was concentrating on the interrogation scene in front of her so much that she didn't even notice her daughter draw her wand as she crossed the room.

When she reached the threshold of her parents' room, Hermione took a deep, calming breath. Although she tried not to look, her eyes were drawn to the large, blank section of wall to her left. She knew that her room lay behind there, magically concealed so that her parents wouldn't question the things she had wished to store there.

While she had taken all of her books, clothes and anything else she thought she might need, she did not have many other possessions, mainly photos and Muggle objects, that she could take with her nor had the heart to throw away. When (she couldn't bring herself to think _if_) she returned she hoped her room would be the same way she had left it.

Hermione raised a shaking hand and knocked on the door.

Her father called her in and she stepped into the room to see him placing his neatly folded jumper back into the chest of drawers at the side of his bed. He looked at his daughter's pale face and frowned.

"What's up, love?" he asked, walking around the bed towards her. Hermione rushed forward and hugged him tightly, willing herself to keep her head together.

"Hermi-"

"Dad, I love you and I am so, so sorry" she whispered into his ear.

She pulled away and raised her wand, pointing it directly into her father's shocked face.

"_Mutoegois!_" she cried and her father's eyes glazed over and she hurried from the room. Before she could register what she had just done, she found herself face to face with her mother.

"Mum!" she exclaimed. "I-I thought you were watching TV?" She had to get her back downstairs before she realised anything had happened to her husband.

"I was," she said slowly, "but the adverts came on so I was just popping to the loo."

Hermione's mother looked disturbed by her strange behaviour. Hermione knew her panic must be showing on her face and she tried desperately to think of a way to stop the situation spinning out of control. Unfortunately, at that moment, her father came out of his bedroom to see what all the noise was in the hallway.

"Monica? What is all of this?" he asked, looking at a confused Mrs Granger.

"Who on earth is-"

Hermione's mother choked as she tried to continue to speak but found that her voice would no longer work.

"Sorry, Mr Wilkins," Hermione blurted out, "Monica was just showing me your beautiful home. I'm Bonnie, by the way. I work with her at the florists."

Behind her father's back, Hermione's mother stopped her attempts to speak and gaped at the bizarre exchange between her husband and daughter. It was then that her eyes fell on the thin stick of Vinewood partially hidden up her daughter's sleeve. Hermione shot her mum a pleading look as she watched a shadow of truth dawn on her mother's gradually angrier face.

"Ah yes, well, it is your last opportunity, I guess. I'll leave you two ladies to it then," said Mr Granger. He smiled jovially at them and headed back into the bedroom. Suddenly, he turned on the spot and looked at Hermione. "It was lovely to meet you, Bonnie," he said politely and closed the door behind him.

As soon as the door snapped shut, Hermione's mother glared at her furiously and Hermione grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her gently towards the stairs. She complied but, when they got to the downstairs hallway, she yanked her arm out of Hermione's grasp and stormed into the kitchen. Hermione reluctantly followed.

_This was not supposed to happen like this_, Hermione thought as she closed the door behind her and slowly made her way to the dining table. She sat down and closed her eyes. She heard her mother sit on the seat opposite and Hermione wordlessly twirled her wand, lifting the silencing charm she had been forced to cast upstairs.

"Hermione Jean Granger," whispered her mother in a dangerous voice that quivered with anger, "when we agreed to let you attend Hogwarts, it was on one condition; that you would _never _use magic against us."

Hermione bowed her head and stared at her knees. Before tonight she had kept her promise and had never dreamed she would one day break it. Now however, she had no choice but how could she make her mother see this?

"Now, I trust you," Mrs Granger continued in the same tone, making Hermione squirm guiltily. "So I'm sure you have a good reason for whatever you have done to your father and what you have just done to me and I would love to hear it. Now."

Hermione lifted her head. The quiet fury in her mother's eyes was causing her physical pain and she bit her bottom lip to stop it trembling.

"Well?" questioned her mother, eyebrows raised. "Okay, let's start with the basics; what have you done to your father?"

"I've bewitched him into thinking he is a gardener called Wendell Wilkins," Hermione whispered. It seemed easier to be honest. She realised this was potentially the last conversation she was ever going to have with her mother; she didn't want it to be one full of lies.

Her mother stared at her in disbelief.

"And why, Hermione, would you do that?"

She didn't seem angry anymore, just confused. Hermione couldn't find the words to explain so she just stared silently at the kitchen table.

"Why does he think my name is Monica and why doesn't he recognise you?" she pressed.

These questions had more straight forward answers but Hermione was beginning to think she had lost the power of speech. She was surprised that she wasn't fighting back tears as she had been expecting to; instead she was numb and hollow.

She heard her mother sigh.

"Hermione, what is going on?" she said calmly. "Just tell me, whatever it is. I promise I won't get angry."

"Professor Dumbledore is dead."

The words had fallen from her lips without her meaning them to. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw he mother stiffen. No doubt she was failing to see the link between a teacher's death and her husband thinking he was a gardener, but she didn't question this.

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said sincerely. "Is that why term finished early? He was an old man though, love. These things happen. It's sad but true, I'm afraid."

Hermione shook her head. "It wasn't like that. He was murdered."

The silence in the kitchen swelled and pressed itself against Hermione's ears. She supposed under any other circumstances she would feel suffocated by it but she felt nothing. It was a strange sensation but part of her wished it would last.

"Murdered? D-do they know who by?" her mother said, stunned.

"Prof- Snape. Snape killed him."

The lack of expression in her voice was disconcerting.

"Darling, are you sure because-"

"Harry saw it happen."

More silence.

"How is he?"

Hermione shrugged. "As good as can be expected, I guess."

Neither of the Granger women spoke for a long time. Hermione knew her mother was bursting with questions but she had no desire to prompt her to ask them. The longer they sat like this, the longer it would be before Hermione did what she knew she had to do. Until then, she would sit studying the grains on the wooden table.

"This has something to do with that You-Know-Who, doesn't it?" asked Mrs Granger calmly.

For the first time since they had sat down at the kitchen table, Hermione looked directly into her mother's eyes. The fear there was unmistakable.

"Voldemort," she replied tonelessly, "and yes, it does."

She took a deep breath. Putting this off any longer wasn't fair on either to them.

"With Dumbledore gone he has a pretty good chance of taking over our world." Normally she would refrain from calling the wizarding 'our world' in front of her parents because she hated the idea that they were completely separate from it. Now she was very glad they were.

"I can't explain why," Hermione continued, "but Harry has to be the one to finish him."

Mrs Granger made a noise of disbelief. "He's only, what? Seventeen?"

"Sixteen," Hermione corrected.

"Exactly!" her mother exclaimed. "It's ridiculous! How can he be expected to do that?"

Hermione cleared her throat. They were nearing the main point now and she hoped her resolve would hold.

"In the months before his death, Professor Dumbledore told Harry how it could be done," Hermione said, watching her mother slowly begin to put two and two together. "He isn't going back to Hogwarts in September. He is going to- to finish what Professor Dumbledore started."

The colour drained from her mother's face. Hermione knew she must have worked out what her next sentence was before she had even started saying it.

"No…"

"And I'm going with him," she finished simply.

Hermione looked calmly at her mother. Her mother, on the other hand, was anything but calm. She was wide eyed, pale and her bottom lip was trembling.

"Ron too," Hermione added as an afterthought.

"You can't," pleaded Mrs Granger, shaking her head. "You're too young, you're too- oh, Hermione!"

She got up, walked around the table and hugged her only daughter.

"I've got to, Mum. Harry needs me. We know how to stop this and that is what we are going to do," whispered Hermione.

Mrs Granger released her daughter from the hug and held her at arm's length, shaking her head.

"No," she croaked, tears silently falling down her cheeks. "I won't let you. Is that why you've bewitched your father? Is that why… Wait-"

She let go of Hermione and backed away from her, into the kitchen counter top, looking horrified.

"You're going to do it to me as well, aren't you?" she sobbed, almost inaudibly.

Hermione was on her feet before she realised what she was doing.

"Mum-"

"You were, weren't you?"

"Mum, please-"

"Hermione!"

Hermione silently nodded and her mother covered her mouth with a shaking hand. This was going worse than Hermione had even thought possible. She launched into the full explanation before her mother started jumping hysterically to false conclusions.

"It's for your own safety! If Voldemort realises I'm helping Harry then he might come after you and Dad to try and find out information about us," she said quickly. "I couldn't stand to see them hurt you so I've planned it all out that you and Dad became different people and moved somewhere that they wouldn't think to look for you. When it's over, I'll come and find you and bring you back."

"M-move? Where to?"

"Adelaide."

Hermione's announcement was met with a stunned silence. The second hand on the wall clock was all Hermione could hear but she tried to block the noise out. It felt like a countdown and she didn't need any extra pressure.

"Australia?"

"I-I've changed all your documents and bank accounts to your new names so you won't be traceable," Hermione explained quickly. "I've already brought your plane tickets and paid for the first few month's rent on a house I found. It's taken up most of your savings, but I just wanted you to be safe."

The amount of time and thought that had gone into Hermione's plan seemed to shock her mother beyond anything else she had heard tonight and she stumbled over to the chair next to the one that Hermione had recently vacated and sank, weak kneed, into it.

"A house?"

Hermione nodded. It had involved a lot of time in the public library on their computers and some very tricky magic, but she had found a house she knew her parents would be happy in. If she didn't survive the hunt for the horcruxes, then at least they would have something she had given to them with them at all times, even if they didn't realise.

"It's beautiful, Mum, it really is," she said quietly as she sat down next her. Her nerve was starting to fail her. She had to do it soon. She was four hours late as it was. "It's in the middle of nowhere, down the road from a lake and there is a huge garden."

Mrs Granger took her hand, swallowed and looked her directly in the eyes.

"How will we know you're safe if we're in Australia?" she breathed. She seemed terrified of the answer.

Hermione blinked back the tears she could start to feel building up.

"You won't know I exist. That way if- if something goes wrong-" Hermione winced as her mother grip on her hand became painful "-you will be able to stay in Australia and be happy. No one will be able to find you."

At this, Hermione's mother screwed her face up against her anguish and shook her head. Tears were falling thick and fast down her blotchy cheeks.

"No. No, I can't- I won't let you-"

Hermione took a deep breath. She was pushing the boundaries of what she believed she was capable of already. Her next words may be a step too far.

"Mum, I want you to understand that I have to do this," she pleaded. "I won't be able to if there is a risk that you and Dad will get dragged into it as well. I don't want to do this against your will but I- I will if I have to."

This statement was met with another billowing silence. This time though, Hermione could almost feel it.

"Please, Mum. Please understand."

Her voice was shaking now. Mrs Granger stared at her blankly, took a deep breath and spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"Was it Monica, did you say?"

Hermione stiffly nodded. Having her mother's co-operation made things easier yes, but this was still the hardest thing she had ever had to do in her life.

"And Wendell?"

"Wilkins, yes."

Mrs Granger laughed shakily.

"Wendell and Monica? Like those dolls you had when you were younger?" she asked, attempting a smile.

Hermione nodded again, unable to find her voice.

Suddenly Mrs Granger stood up and flung her arms around Hermione, who hugged her back as tightly as she could.

"Be careful," her mother whispered into her hair. "Please stay safe. Look after yourself, and Harry and Ron as well." Hermione rested her head on her mother's shoulder as she started stroking Hermione's hair with a trembling hand. "If you still love him, tell him. Don't leave it until it's too late or you'll regret it."

All too soon Mrs Granger had let go and had taken a few steps back. She was barely able to control her hands from shaking.

"I-I'm so proud of you. I'm so p-proud of the person you've become. I always knew y-you were sp-special," Hermione's mother wept, trying to smile. "Even before started making books attack people and having tables you were about to fall into, jump out of the way."

They smiled sadly each other, silently remembering the accidental magic of Hermione's youth, before Hogwarts, before Harry Potter… before horcruxes.

"Promise me you'll be careful," Mrs Granger sobbed.

"I will. I promise." Hermione's voice was cracking under the strain of keeping it together.

"Whatever happens, remember that I will always love you, Hermione."

The moment was imminent. Hermione stared at her mother and tried to take a mental picture of every aspect of her appearance. She was determined this would not be their last conversation but she wasn't about to take any risks.

"I love you too, Mum."

Mrs Granger gave her a water smile and let out a shaky laugh.

"Now, go and save the world."

Hermione returned her mother's smile, raised her wand and cleared her throat.

"_Mutoegois!_"

Mrs Granger's watery eyes glazed over and Hermione quickly stowed her wand in her pocket. After a few seconds, her eyes refocused and she smiled warmly at Hermione.

"Bonnie, it was so lovely for you to pop round," she said happily.

"Yes, it was nice seeing you before you go," replied Hermione, struggling to keep her voice steady. "I'll be going then."

"I'll walk you out, dear," grinned Mrs Granger as she led the way towards the front door and opened it. The immediate after effects of the spell seemed to stop her noticing that her own eyes were red and puffy.

"Now, you look after that shop," her mother said as Hermione stepped out onto the driveway. "Don't let Em takeover and ruin everything."

"I won't," muttered Hermione. An hour ago she would've done anything to stay, but now she wanted nothing more than to leave.

"Well, goodbye, Bonnie," called Mrs Granger as Hermione started backing away, down the drive way.

"Goodbye, Mu-Monica."

Without another word, Hermione marched down the driveway and out of the front gate. She heard the front door to her childhood home close behind her but didn't stop for a parting glance. There was a tightness in her chest that was threatening to suffocate her and warms tears had started swimming in her eyes, impairing her vision. All the pain she had been bottling up so she could perform this essential task was multiplying and was about to consume her.

She half-walked, half-ran to the field at the end of her street. It was home to a poorly lit park and several trees so it worked perfectly as a safe apparition point. As soon as she managed to stumble, almost blindly, behind a large birch tree she closed her eyes and concentrated on her destination: The Burrow. She briefly wondered if anyone would still be up and, more specifically, if the one person she needed to see right now would be waiting for her. Just before the nights events overwhelmed her, Hermione twirled on the spot and into the darkness.

The familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube didn't bother Hermione this time. She already felt as though her entire body was being compressed so it actually made little difference. As soon as she felt her feet hit solid ground once more, she opened her eyes. She half expected to have splinched given that her mind was so preoccupied, but she discovered she hadn't, although she had got her destination wrong.

She had intended to Apparate to the garden, but she hadn't. Maybe it was because of what she was thinking about right before she had Apparated but she found herself surrounded by bright orange and knew exactly where she had ended up. The memory of the first time she had been in this room came back to her and she remembered hating the colour scheme. Now it made her feel at home.

Ron was lying on his bed, his wand next to him. A small part of Hermione was shocked to see that he was reading a book but other thoughts soon washed this away. The loud crack that accompanied Hermione's arrival alerted Ron to her presence. He jumped slightly, hastily hid the book under his pillow and leant forward.

"Hermione?" he called to her. "You were late so I thought you weren't coming-"

He noticed the tears pouring down her face and the fact she was shaking, even though she was trying desperately to stop.

"What's wrong?" Ron asked, getting off the bed. "Did- did you do it?"

She looked into his concerned blue eyes and nodded. Hermione could no longer control herself and broke down. Before she had even realised he had moved, Ron had wrapped his arms around her and was stroking her hair. Memories of Dumbledore's funeral and the last time she hugged her mother came flooding back and Hermione started shaking so badly she could barely stand.

Ron held her tightly so she wouldn't fall while Hermione buried her face into his chest and tried to regain her composure but it was no use. Her racking sobs, ripped at her lungs and she was gripping the back of Ron's pyjama top like it was a life line. She had never lost control like this, never, not even when she had first seen Ron with Lavender (she held him even more tightly at the thought), and it scared her.

It truly dawned on her for the first time how real this all was. It was like nothing they had ever experienced before. Hermione had expected complicated enchantments and hard work but never before had she considered the heightened sense of emotion that came with every little thing becoming life or death.

When she was finally able to control her breathing, she noticed how hard she and Ron were holding on to each other. She loosened her grip but kept her arms around him and he did the same. They stood like this for several minutes, while Hermione continued to cry silently. She felt as though she had run marathon.

As Ron held her in his arms, Hermione tried not to think about what it could mean. She was upset and they were friends so of course he would hold her like this. She couldn't afford to further delude herself into thinking that Ron's feelings towards her were anything more than platonic. She had offered him the opportunity of more and he had chosen Lavender. This didn't make her angry anymore. He couldn't help how he felt any more than she could.

"Do you want to stay in here tonight?" Ron murmured above her. She nodded into his chest and pulled away. She found that she couldn't look directly into Ron's eyes. After all, it was an act of chivalry, not a declaration of love.

"Right, well, you can have my bed, I'll just get the camp bed from the attic," he said softly. He put an arm around her and walked her over to his bed. She sat down on it while he quickly picked up his wand and retrieved the book from under his pillow. Numbly, she wondered why he kept hiding it from her. Right now though, when she was aching all over and barely capable of conscious movement, it didn't seem important.

"Damn," cursed Ron, under his breath. "All your clothes are in Ginny's room and she's asleep already…"

Hermione watched as Ron walked over to his drawers, hide the book under a pile of socks and started looking for something.

"Hang on…" he muttered.

Eventually he came back and sat next to Hermione on the bed with a small pile of clothes in his hands.

"I can't get your pyjama's so you'll have to borrow mine, sorry," he said handing them to her. "They're old ones so they shouldn't be too big for you, but don't panic; they are clean."

She smiled weakly at him and noticed that his light grey top had a large dark patch on it where she had cried onto it. He looked down at his chest and pulled a face.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine." He waved a dismissive hand at her guilty expression and stood up. He unashamedly pulled his top over his head, threw it into his over-flowing washing basket in the corner and went to get a clean one. Hermione couldn't help but have a look at his bare torso. He was still as lanky as ever but he definitely had bulked out a little bit and her heart skipped a beat. The moment lasted a spilt second before misery washed over her once more.

Ron, now wearing a black t-shirt, came back and knelt in front of her. He covered her hand with his and looked into her eyes. Hermione knew she was being stupid but she had the feeling that he could see more than just her face. It was as if he could see her pain somehow, like it was a physical object that he was trying to remove from her grasp. At any other time, Hermione would've held his gaze, hoping against her better judgement that he would kiss her until she couldn't understand her own internal warnings to herself. Now, however, Hermione was too weak, too tired to withstand the intensity and blinked.

"I'll get you a cup of tea if you want?" he whispered. "You can get changed and stuff?"

She nodded briefly and he left the room.

Hermione looked at the clothes in her hand and saw they were covered in the Chudley Cannons insignia. Sighing, she started to get changed. When she was finished, she placed her neatly folded clothes at the foot of Ron's bed and walked over to the window. She pressed her forehead against the cool glass. It did nothing to suppress her thoughts, but it was better than looking at the empty room. Ron was the best source of comfort she had and being reminded he wasn't there would do nothing but make her panicky.

After a few minutes, Hermione heard Ron return. She turned to see him levitating the camp bed with his wand, a cup of tea in hand. He gave his wand a flick and the camp bed unfolded itself and landed next to his bed.

"I always thought you looked good in orange," he chuckled, looking at Hermione. She gave him a small smile and looked at what she was wearing properly. The bright orange t-shirt was halfway down to her knees and the grey trousers covered her feet completely. She sat back down on the bed as Ron passed her the mug of tea. She drank it while she watched him make up the camp bed. When she had finished her drink and set the cup down on the bedside table, she realised Ron had made it exactly how she liked it.

They both climbed into their beds and Ron flicked his wand to turn the lights off.

It was only when she rolled onto her side that Hermione realised that she had arrived at the Burrow about thirty minutes ago and had been given everything that she had needed by Ron without her asking for anything. In fact, she thought, somewhat surprised, she hadn't uttered a single word since she had got here. Just as sleep threatened to claim her, she knew there was one thing she did have to say.

"Ron?" she called out into the darkness. Her voice was gravelly from all of the crying.

"Hmm?" came his reply.

"Thank you."

There was a small pause.

"Anytime."

Hermione eyelids became too heavy to stay open and she fell into dreams filled with her and Ron alone in a house by a sunny lake where he held her close and she had never felt safer.

* * *

Ron couldn't remember the last time his own thoughts were so conflicting. He tried to work out which was the most important and deal with that, but they all seemed to be attacking him with the same urgency.

_Why is _he _here?_

Today had been meticulously planned, not just by his mum and Fleur, but by Ron as well. Weeks, he had spent building up to this moment and not once during his careful planning or brilliant execution did anybody tell him that a certain Bulgarian would be in attendance.

If anything was going to make him lose his head and make a prat out of himself it was Krum and his stupid moustache.

_She said yes!_

Well, okay, Hermione didn't say yes in words exactly but had she smiled and consented. The thrill of finally asking Hermione to dance and to now be holding her hand was buzzing through him and it would have been hard to keep the smile off his face if it wasn't for certain Bulgarians and another very real fear that gripped him tighter with every step he took.

_I now have to dance with Hermione._

"Ron," she called from behind him. "Ron! Slow down! You're going to take my arm off."

Guiltily, Ron walked slower through the crowd, but didn't turn to look at her when he spoke. "Sorry. I just wanted to erm… find a good spot."

Hermione's hand pulled him backwards so he was forced to stop and turn around. Gone was the flustered smile. It had been replaced by a look of annoyance. How had he screwed this up already?

"We have passed plenty of _good spots, _Ron," she glowered at him, dropping his hand. It felt oddly cold without her small one in it. "You just want to get me away from Viktor!"

While that had been his objective, it probably wasn't wise to let Hermione know that.

"No," he blurted out, searching wildly in his head for a believable reason. "I- erm- just wanted-"

Hermione saw through him like a pane of glass.

"This is just typical of you!" she hissed. "I think you're doing something really nice-"

"I was!" he protested but she ignored him.

"-but as always it's just an excuse to stop me from talking to Viktor, my _friend, _who I haven't seen in three years, just in case he pounces on me or something equally ridiculous!"

"Hermione-" While he liked the emphasis she put on the word friend, Ron did not want to be having an argument about Krum right now. Despite Hermione's voice being quiet, the dancers in the immediate area had heard the strange hissing noise and were now slyly watching them with great interest.

"He is a lovely, kind and considerate person! If you just _spoke _to him-"

"Hermione!" Ron interrupted loudly. His perfect evening was crashing around him, but he wasn't going to let it fall apart that easily. It wasn't completely ruined yet. Krum or no Krum – he wasn't going to give up without a fight. Well, the drastic avoidance of one at least.

Hermione looked shocked at Ron's tone and went to respond to his interruption with what Ron assumed was another tirade, but he held his hand up to stop her.

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said as sincerely as he could. "I- I just wanted us to have a -a nice dance and I didn't want Kr-Viktor to get jealous or something so-"

"Yes, because he is the one who is known for over-reacting to me dancing with someone," Hermione said waspishly.

Ron sighed. That Yule Ball… while at the time it seemed frivolous and pointless, it kept coming back to haunt him. Who knew one night could be such a nuisance?

"Look, let's not get into all of this again," he whispered, looking at Hermione's shoes. Then, remembering what the book the twins had given him said about eye contact, he looked up to see she looked a lot calmer than before.

"Can we just have one night where none of that happened?" he continued, bravely taking both of her hands. "Just one night where we don't fight, please. Scream at me tomorrow but not tonight."

His words had a startling effect on Hermione. She seemed to melt before his eyes as she nodded and was looking at him as though he had just announced that he was going to buy a large country house and convert it into a day spa for house-elves. He'd have to try that line someday, Ron thought as the band finished the current song.

With Hurricane Hermione successfully averted, he now just had to deal with an even bigger problem; actually dancing with her.

When the band jumped into a mid-tempo number, Ron just stared at Hermione, completely unsure of what to do. They were still holding hands and Ron pulled his away and tried to surreptitiously wipe the sweat off on his new robes. Time stood still as he continued staring at Hermione's face. It was like looking directly into the sun and he wanted to turn away but couldn't. Filled with the urge to do _something,_ he reached tentatively for her waist and hand, but stopped and stupidly stood there with his hands held out.

Thankfully, Hermione wasn't as nervous, despite the pink tinge in her cheeks.

"Honestly," she chided, before placing one of his on her waist and taking the other one and holding it up to shoulder level.

Awkwardly, Ron led them around the dance floor, concentrating so hard on not stepping on her feet that he couldn't have held a conversation if he tried. Not that this was a problem as Hermione hadn't tried to start one. Even though it wasn't as fluid or perfect as he had envisioned, Ron still felt like he could fly without the aid of his Cleensweep. He was dancing with Hermione and, as far as he could tell, she didn't hate it.

After a couple of songs, Ron heard some angry voices a few feet away from where he and Hermione were still dancing. Not needing the distraction he tried to lead them both away from it. Put off by the sudden change of direction Hermione looked up at him and their eyes met for the first time since they had started dancing.

If there was anything else in the tent except Hermione at that moment, Ron didn't know about it. A jolt of realisation hit him like lightning and he became achingly aware of how close Hermione was to him, how his hand was on her waist, how her lips were full and enticing… Privacy and planning be damned; he had to kiss her now. He started leaning down towards her…

"Isn't that Viktor?" Hermione said suddenly, looking around Ron to see the source of the now full blown row going on behind them.

"Isn't it always?" Ron mumbled under his breath and he tipped his head back in frustration. Destroying all of Bulgaria wouldn't be considered an overreaction would it?

"What?" asked Hermione distractedly, still trying to see what was going on.

"N-nothing," he replied abruptly.

Hermione frowned at him and let go of his hand so she could work out what was going on. Almost groaning at the loss of contact, Ron considered wiping out the entirety of Eastern Europe in retaliation.

"It looks like he's arguing with Luna's father…" Hermione wondered out loud. Ron tried shuffling to the side to block them from view.

Maybe the argument was about Quidditch, maybe it was about that silly necklace Luna's dad was wearing or maybe Krum disagreed that yellow was a wedding colour; either way Ron couldn't care less. He just wanted Hermione's attention back on him and not on a lunatic and the biggest git that ever slouched across the earth.

"Maybe I should go and help sort-" Hermione began, biting her lip in worry.

Ron panicked. He had been watching Krum figuratively distract Hermione away from him for years. Watching it happen literally before his very eyes was more than he could take.

"I'm sure it'll sort itself out once Krum accepts that Nargles really do-"

Hermione scowled at him and tried to side step him saying "Don't be silly, Ron. I'm sure if I explain Mr Lovegood's… eccentricities to Viktor he will understand."

She started walking purposely across the dance floor towards the two men and Ron watched hopelessly for a few seconds before he threw all his pride away and desperately jogged after her, many a disgruntled couple muttering about him along the way. He caught her up easily and ran ahead a couple of steps so he could stand in front of her.

"Or," he suggested, holding his hands out to the side to stop her going around him again, "you could just-"

Startled by Ron's sudden appearance, Hermione tripped slightly and grabbed Ron's shoulders to stop herself from falling, while he caught her around the waist. She looked up and Ron swallowed. For a moment that could have easily lasted all year, they stared numbly into each other's eyes.

"-stay with me?" Ron finished breathlessly.

Neither of them moved for a long time. Ron could feel Hermione pressed up against him while she could probably feel his shallow breath on her face. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to move, but Ron had completely forgotten how.

As if the fates were against him, the band started playing a slow song and everybody in the marquee moved so that they could dance closer together. Not that Ron noticed the other couples. Hermione's doe eyed expression was all he could focus on and he waited for the moment when his bright red ears would illuminate it.

Knowing that he looked like a fool and that he should probably start dancing as he was the man, Ron cleared his throat and adjusted his hold on Hermione's waist so that his long fingers were splayed across the small of her back. Following his lead, Hermione clasped her hands behind his neck and, to Ron's surprise, leant her head against his chest.

Sure that when Hermione had tripped she had knocked him out and he was now having some kind of wonderfully realistic dream, Ron started revolving slowly to this music and tried to control his breathing. Even though they were now very close, Ron couldn't help but notice they were both tense and stiff. Trying to rectify this, he started rubbing Hermione's sides gently with his thumbs. According to what he now thought of as 'The Book', it was small touches like this that could really reach out to a witch. It didn't take long for The Book to once again be proved right as Hermione sighed and he felt her arms slacken around the back of his neck.

In that moment Ron knew that he had ever been right about anything, it had been Hermione. She was perfect, except that she wasn't, which somehow made her even more perfect. Ron thoughts danced in circles that began to make less and less sense as he pictured how well they fitted together, despite the height difference. Now he knew what this felt like, to have Hermione in _his _arms surrounded by his family, he knew he could forget about the Yule Ball and Viktor Krum once and for all.

"It's weird how much we've changed but, at the same time, we haven't changed at all," Ron heard Hermione say quietly. "We're still us. We're still friends despite everything, even now."

"After everything we've been through I doubt a little bit more imminent danger would change us," Ron chuckled. He couldn't see her face but he could picture her serene expression perfectly.

"It's so nice to have one last day like this, where nothing really matters." She might have been talking to herself, her voice sounded so distant. Ron frowned at her choice of words.

"Don't think like that," he muttered. "You'll have loads of days like this."

"So will you."

Ron didn't reply but moved his hands so that his palms were flat against her lower back, pulling her slightly closer into him. When the music eventually stopped, he wondered if he would have the strength to let go.

"Ron?"

He closed his eyes at the sound of her voice. He couldn't bring himself to answer. There was no way Hermione wasn't going to make it to the other side of the war on his watch, but he couldn't say the same thing about himself. How could he make a promise like that? One that he knew he might not be able to keep?

"I know what you're thinking. Don't," Hermione said. She sounded like she had a head cold coming on.

"Don't what?" he asked, clueless.

"Don't… don't be stupid and sacrifice yourself," she said in a would-be authoritative tone.

Ron was stunned. He had always known that Harry was the hero, Hermione was the brains and he was the disposable one. If Harry or Hermione were in grave danger, Ron knew it was his job to take the curse because they were more important and the war couldn't be won without them. He hadn't ever thought about it; he just accepted his role and hoped he had the courage to do what had to be done.

He had never discussed it with the other two, knowing that they would try and stop him, but he always thought that they must know. It was one of those unspoken agreements. So why was Hermione saying it aloud?

"How would that be stupid?" said Ron eventually. He decided to not even try and deny it. After all, now Hermione had let it out into the open, what was the point? "Anyway, it's not like you wouldn't," he countered.

"That's not the point," Hermione replied automatically.

"We both know that Harry has to get through this more than we do," said Ron, as Hermione's fingers started tracing circles at the nape of his neck. "We both know what the other one is willing to do to make sure that happens."

There was a few moments silence while they continued to dance, the other couples around them unaware that what could possibly be the defining moment of the war, and possibly modern wizarding history, was being discussed right next to them.

Ron knew that Hermione wouldn't hesitate to give her own life to save Harry's and he was sure that she knew that he would do the same. They were the Chosen One's best friends and therefore readily available shields, regardless of what Harry thought. While he wished it wasn't true, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop her like she wouldn't be able to stop him. They were both as stubborn as each other and were fully aware if they were to start that row they would reach stalemate in seconds.

"Fine," stated Hermione as though they had had the discussion telepathically, "but you can't go- I would never forgive- you shouldn't- not for me," she stammered.

Hermione lifted her head to look at him. Here was the point that could be argued in her mind. She believed she was every bit as dispensable as he was, but Ron knew she was wrong. Hermione wasn't going to die if there was something he could do to prevent it.

"Promise me. Don't do it for me."

They had stopped dancing now. Around them people continued to spin and twirl so they became the sun in the dance floor's solar system.

"Harry needs you," he said to her chin. He had no desire to see the tears in her eyes.

"Harry needs you as well," she gasped. He saw her gulp and then felt her fingers pressing his cheek lightly. His eyes snapped to hers and was surprised to see she wasn't crying at all. The tenderness he saw instead completely disarmed him and Ron knew he would agree to anything she said.

"I-I need you," she whispered.

This was it. This was the perfect moment he had been waiting for. Somewhere along the line he had done something right and he suspected if he tried to kiss Hermione now she wouldn't object. She might even kiss him back, he thought hopefully.

His nerves came back in full force and Ron became aware that he was surrounded by people. He wanted this to be special. He wanted this to be about him and her. Most of all, he didn't want the twins catcalls or Ginny's smirk ruining it. He needed a drink and fast.

"Do-do you want a drink?" Ron croaked. The Book had said something about offering to buy drinks for witches, but he suspected that if the drinks were free it wouldn't make much difference.

"Um, yes, please," smiled Hermione. She moved her hands to his shoulders and took a step back so Ron's hands slid back to her waist, "but not champagne, can I have-"

"Butterbeer," Ron finished for her, with a grin. Hermione had told him a few weeks ago that she didn't much care for champagne, but her mum had always said if the occasion called for champagne, you should have at least have one glass. So, at the first opportunity, Ron had given her a glass with a wink. _Kind and Considerate gestures that prove you're listening_, The Book had called it, but Ron thought of them more as Bloody Miracles. "I know."

She flashed him a dazzling smile that left him breathless, gave his hand a quick squeeze and headed off through the crowd. Ron stared after her but quickly shook his head to remind himself of his plan. He turned to head towards the nearest floating tray and could have sworn he could see the path he needed to take clearly in front of him. He just had to get Hermione a drink, ask her if she wanted to go for a walk and then go on said walk, say… something nice (he'd think of the exact words later) and then kiss her. Realistically he could be kissing Hermione in twenty minutes. He quickened his pace.

He picked up two bottles of Butterbeer and looked around to see where Hermione was. He could just make her out at a table on the far side of the marquee with Harry. Ron turned around to pick up a third bottle when he heard a voice behind him.

"Looks like someone finally learnt to read then."

Ron spun around to see Fred leaning nonchalantly against a pole, his trademark mischievous grin plastered across his face.

"What?" asked Ron with the familiar sinking feeling that always accompanied playing along with one of the twins jokes.

"You, you idiot," laughed Fred, nodding towards Ron. "We didn't think you would get our subtle hint on its own so we actually considered charming the book cover to say _Twelve fail-safe ways to charm Hermione Granger,_ but it looks like you got there on your own in the end."

Ron frowned at Fred but didn't try to deny his feelings like he usual did. After all, if everything went smoothly, there wouldn't be any need to deny them anymore. He felt oddly lightheaded at the thought so he decided to change the subject.

"Where's the other one anyway?"

Fred stood up straight and plucked four glasses of champagne effortlessly off a passing tray. "The Asymmetrical Wonder has his hands busy at the moment so I have been entrusted with the task of retrieving refreshments," he said with a wink. "Sure you don't want me to see if I can wrangle a Veela for you?"

Not even remotely tempted by the offer, Ron shook his head and turned to leave Fred and his waggling eyebrows.

"Suit yourself then, Ronniekins," he called after him.

On impulse Ron stopped and turned around to see Fred still grinning at him. He paused for a moment before saying something he thoroughly doubted he had ever said before.

"Thanks," he mumbled, uncomfortable with showing his brother any kind of affection, "for the book and- and everything."

He half expected Fred to tease him but instead he gave him the closest thing to a kind look as Fred could probably manage before saying "No problem, little bro."

They awkwardly smiled at each other, unfamiliar with this kind of conversation and Ron wondered if it'd be overkill to shake his hand or something. Instead, he decided to revert back to playful banter.

"Pass that on to George as well. I know it was probably his idea in the first place."

"It was mine actually," said Fred in a wounded voice. "I saw the book on my lunch break one day and, when I told him about it, he was all ears!"

They both laughed at the poor joke. Ron opened his mouth to say something back, when he heard what sounded like Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice call out from the middle of the room.

"The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."*

Horrified, Ron dropped the bottles in his hand and heard them smash on the floor. He exchanged a look of determination and shock with Fred while they both withdrew their wands.

"Death Eaters… Can't fault their timing," Fred snarled as he cast a shield charm on the entrance behind him. "Good luck, Ron," he called as Ron started to look over the crowd, trying to find Harry and Hermione.

"You too," he replied through numb lips and headed off at a sprint. They would have to leave to search for the horcruxes right now; now when they were dressed up, unprepared and a little bit tipsy. Ron ran through the crowd, searching for his friends knowing that in the few seconds that had just passed everything had changed.

* * *

*Line from Deathly Hallows, Chapter 8


	13. Road To Ruin

_A/N: Thank you as ever to the wonderful people reviewing, favouriting and put-on-alerting this story. The past couple of chapters there have been a few new faces - hello and welcome to the party! You all make the world a shiny place._

**Warning: **I'm not going to name names but this chapter contains a swear.

*everybody looks at Ron*

*Ron shrugs guiltily while Hermione rolls her eyes*

*Harry cheers when he notices that he actually appears in this chapter*

_Disclaimer: Queen Rowling owns Harry Potter. Queen Elizabeth II owns some very impressive bling. Yeah, it's a Diamond Jubilee themed disclaimer. Happy 60th Other-Birthday, Yer Maj!_

* * *

**Road to Ruin **

(_ Holding hands / Anywhere but here / The morning after the nightmare before _)

Hermione couldn't sleep. It was the early hours of the morning and her day had been exhausting, but her mind was racing. She had been expecting something like this to happen but not yet, not until they had made a good start on the horcruxes at least. Kingsley's voice kept echoing inside her head; _the ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.*_

A shiver went down her spine. It was only since she had started trying to sleep that the full effect of these words had hit her. Nowhere and nobody was safe anymore. The Death Eaters could hunt for Harry in the open and they were already proving they were more than capable. The fight in the café had unsettled her. She was lying so she had her back to Ron and Harry so she could watch the door. Although she was certain that if they knew the three of them were inside twelve Grimmauld Place they would've come for them by now, her wand was right next to her, ready to be grabbed at a second's notice.

Mr Weasley's patronus had calmed her nerves somewhat. The message may have been brief but it had told them all she wanted to hear - that everyone was safe. She couldn't bear to think what would've happened if they hadn't managed to get Harry out in time. Even though he was disguised, his Polyjuice Potion would have eventually ran out and then-

_Don't think that way._

All summer she had forced herself to not think about the dire consequences that they all potentially faced. Readjusting the cushion she was using for a pillow, she tried to think about something else.

Unfortunately, her mind settled on the only other topic that was likely to keep her up all night – Ron. His behaviour at the wedding was so unexpected, so _perfect, _that she had started to wonder if it wasn't all a dream. He had complimented her, asked her to dance and then actually turned out to be a fair dancer. Yes, she suspected that the only reason he had danced with her was to get her away from Viktor, but it was Ron after all. Realistically, this was the best she could ever hope for.

But what did she hope for? When Ron was poisoned, she had promised herself to not fall into the same old trap of thinking Ron might have feelings for her. She had been down that road and it had led to Lavender Brown and their longest falling out to date. Of course, she was still in love with him, she couldn't deny that, but she kept telling herself that it would fade with time. Yet again, 'it's just a phase' was on loop inside her head.

All this considered, Hermione couldn't help but think where the night could have led if it wasn't for the interruption. They had been drinking champagne, Ron looked more handsome than ever, they were dancing together and he had seemed to be genuinely nervous and thrilled at the same time by all of this, just like she had been. She had let go of all the fear and tension of the outside world and just tried to be a girl dancing with a boy. Hermione had forgotten about Voldemort and Death Eaters, about Lavender and even Victor and had found herself in Ron's arms, blissfully happy. Right now, she couldn't imagine being anywhere else.

If Hermione was honest with herself, the evening was only ever heading one way - with her and Ron sharing a kiss.

Hermione screwed her face up in frustration. Ron didn't feel the same way. He saw her as a friend and nothing else. The sooner she got this into her head, the easier it would be, the less it would hurt.

In an attempt to rid herself of thoughts of Ron, she flung herself over onto her other side. Her hand landed on something warm and fleshy and she barely held in a gasp of shock. Before she could move it, she felt something close around her hand. Hermione froze, not daring to think what she would find if she opened her eyes. After several moments, she pulled herself together and squinted into the darkness.

In front of her she saw Ron, fast asleep on the floor a couple of inches below her. She looked at her hand and saw that she had accidentally put her hand on Ron's and he had closed his fingers around it while asleep. She stared at their hands sadly for a few seconds before she closed her eyes again to try and get back to sleep. Hermione could've easily just moved her hand but she didn't. Just for tonight, she decided to let herself dream that she could always have this. Just for tonight.

\|/\|/

Ron was staring at the back of Hermione's sleeping figure. In all of his dreams, tonight had never ended like this. This was the absolute last thing he had expected and his imagination had come up with several spectacular ways that the wedding could have been a disaster. He couldn't help but selfishly wish that Voldemort had left it just a couple of hours before he took over. All he had to do after he had got Hermione that butterbeer was ask her if she wanted to go for a walk and… well, he hadn't actually planned it out that far, but he was sure whatever he would've done, would've worked and now he would never get the chance to find out.

He closed his eyes and tried once again to get some sleep, but the floor was very uncomfortable. Suddenly, he heard movement and felt something hit his hand. His eyes flung open and he was surprised to see that it was Hermione's hand. Without thinking, he laced his fingers between hers and looked at her, hoping her reaction would be positive.

His heart sank when he saw she was still asleep. Ron closed his eyes again and thought that even though he was still on a hard floor in a creepy house, he wouldn't trade places for all the gold in Gringotts.

* * *

A beam of reddish light was shining in through the entrance of the tent. The sun was just starting to rise over the hills in the distance and the air was still and chilly. The sound of the river outside was almost entirely blocked out by the racket the birds were making in the trees behind them. Hermione looked sadly out at the beautiful sight from just inside the tent and took in a deep breath. The cold air filled her lungs and she wished she could have been anywhere else.

Behind her, she could hear Ron and Harry discussing plans for breakfast. They hadn't got many supplies and Ron's arm was still mangled so Hermione listened in. Tension between the two boys was high and she was preparing herself to step in and calm the situation down if it was needed. The last thing they needed was for an argument to break out.

"We've got some of those mushrooms left – oh, don't pull that face. It's food, isn't it?" she heard Harry snap. He had been on guard duty that night and that always made him touchy. Ron had said he thought that wearing the horcrux made him that way, but she had told him that he was paranoid. While she didn't enjoy wearing the locket, she was sure it didn't affect their moods.

"Fine. Just don't give me too many," Ron grumbled in reply. She heard him shuffle over to the kitchen where Harry was stood.

Ron had been in a terrible mood since they had stolen the locket. At first he was fine, despite his injury, but after a few days the hunger and boredom had made him grouchy at the best of times. While she was used to Ron being grumpy occasionally, this was different. Ron was barely recognisable under his bad mood, especially in comparison to who he had been for the past couple of months.

In the weeks leading up to the wedding he had matured so much and been so attentive and caring towards her, that she had found herself wondering if it was still Ron at all. Not a day had gone by without him giving her a compliment of some sort. He had started opening doors for her and making her cups of tea without her asking. At the wedding, she had let herself believe once again that maybe Ron did love her after all, a suspicion that only intensified during the month spent at Grimmauld Place.

They had both been so busy spying on the ministry entrance and planning how to get the locket that they hadn't really had that much time to talk about anything else, but occasionally their eyes would meet over the sketches and notes on the kitchen table and she knew something in their relationship had shifted. Since the night he had split up with Lavender, they had been on in limbo. They weren't together, but they weren't exactly not together either. Every time he smiled at her she felt her breath catch and when they accidentally brushed hands, it was like electricity going up her arm. They were both acting differently around each other; gone were the days of baiting the other one and the playful teasing. Now when they were alone together, the unsaid words seemed to swell around them until there was no air left in the room and it became unbearable.

Since they had moved into the tent, all of this had stopped and Hermione felt as though she was trying to cling on to something that was determined to slip away from her. For the past couple of days, she had started to wonder if she had imagined it all.

"Whose turn is it to have this thing?" Harry said behind her. She could hear the revulsion in his voice and assumed he was talking about the horcrux. Hermione gulped. She knew it was her turn to wear it, but she was going to wait until the last minute to say so. She just wanted to enjoy the view for a few more seconds.

"Mine," came Ron's voice. Stunned, Hermione turned around to see Harry looking at Ron, confused.

"I'm sure you had it last night," said Harry slowly. "Yeah, I remember taking it from you."

Ron's ears went slightly red - confirmation that he was lying.

"No," he said, holding out his hand to take the locket from Harry, "Hermione gave it to you after dinner, I remember."

Harry stared at Ron. Hermione could tell that he knew Ron was lying but he took the locket off and handed it silently to Ron anyway. Ron took the locket and slung it over his head. As he started tucking it underneath his jumper, he glanced at Hermione and gave her a small smile. At this, Hermione turned on her heel and marched out of the tent, fuming.

She stormed into trees and started kicking the foliage in frustration. Did Ron think she was too weak to handle wearing a stupid necklace? Did he really think that little of her?

"Hermione! Wait!"

The sound of Ron's shout made her stop and turn around. All of the pent up emotion was about to break its barriers and she was powerless to stop it. Ron waited until he was a few metres in front of her before he spoke again.

"Hermione, what's wrong?" he asked. He was looking at her with his sling and his bed-hair and his too-short jeans and his infuriatingly concerned expression, looking as flawed and as ruffled as possible to do so without actively trying, and Hermione felt another bolt of despair and frustration hit her. Everything she wanted was stood not five feet in front of her - just a few short steps - but, in reality, Ron might as well have been back in London.

She was torn between crying and screaming, but instead she simply arched her eyebrows.

"You know full well that you had the locket before Harry," she said through gritted teeth. "Do you not think I can cope or something?"

"No, I just-"

"Am I just some pathetic little girl to you?" Hermione was breathing heavily and was doing her best to not start shouting. If Harry heard their argument, he would be sure to come out and then it was likely that all hell would break loose. "It's a piece of jewellery, Ron, not a death sentence!"

"It's not like that!" he protested. He looked more scared than anything else.

"Then what is it like?" she rounded on him coldly.

"I just-" he mumbled to the ground. "I just wanted to get you something, but I can hardly go to a shop, can I? So I- I decided to give you a day off from this thing." He pulled at the chain around his neck. None of this made sense.

"Get me something?" she repeated harshly. "What do you mean 'get me something?'"

Ron's head snapped up, his eyes round.

"Do- do you not know what the day it is?" he asked uncomfortably.

"I don't know! Tuesday?" she replied, almost hysterically. This conversation was becoming ridiculous. She had long ago lost track of the days. Reminding herself how long they had been on the run did nothing to cheer her up.

"No," Ron said quietly, "it's Friday. Friday the nineteenth."

"What on earth has that got to do with- oh!"

Hermione gaped at him. The rest of the forest fell away and all she could see was Ron's pale face looking back at her in the morning gloom. How could she have forgotten? She knew she had been wrapped up in everything that had been going on, but she hadn't realised how badly she had lost touch with the outside world. A lump was growing in the back of her throat. She tried to think of something to say to Ron, to convey her gratitude, but nothing came out.

Ron gulped and turned to walk back to tent. After a few metres he stopped, looked over his shoulder and spoke to her.

"Happy birthday, Hermione."

* * *

The rushing sound of water was all that could be heard in the quiet forest. The previous night's rain storm had caused all of the woodland creatures to stay hidden and no humans ever made it this deep into the woods. Now, in the early hours of the morning, the rain that had been caught by the few remaining leaves and was occasionally falling onto the mud and damp undergrowth below was the only movement.

A crack rent through the dark, still air and a tall young man appeared out of nowhere, a small stick of wood held aloft in front of him. His span around on the spot, slipping slightly on the wet leaves under his feet and his flaming red hair, still damp from the rain, whipped around his head and stuck to his pale face. Breathing heavily, he continued peering through the trees, searching for any sign of life. After a few minutes, he appeared to be happy that he was in fact alone and lowered his wand. He pulled his ruck sack higher up his shoulder and winced in pain.

"Oh, shit," Ron cursed softly and put his fingers in his mouth to suck the blood off. He then removed them to inspect the damage. Just before more blood started to seep out, he saw that two of his finger nails had come clean off.

"Again?" he mumbled under his breath and had another look at his surroundings. There didn't seem to be anyone else around trying to capture him or otherwise, which was an improvement on the last place he had Apparated to. Ron knew he was lucky to have got away from the group, but he still wasn't exactly happy about his current situation.

It didn't take a huge amount of observation to see that, while he was next to the right river in the right forest, he wasn't near the tent. Promising himself to get Hermione to give him some Apparating lessons if she ever spoke to him again, he started following the river downstream in the hope of finding some sign of his friends.

He had to find them, he had no choice. As soon as he stopped hearing Hermione's voice, he knew he had made a mistake. If it weren't for those slobs that had tried to hand him over to the ministry, he would be back there already. It didn't matter how long it took for them to forgive him or how terrible his reception would be, he just had to get back to them.

The ground was muddy underfoot and Ron had to hold onto the trees to stop him from sliding over in some parts. All this did was remind him of the rain from a few hours ago, the rain he had left Hermione standing in, crying. If he had just stopped and thought for five seconds he would have turned around. He would've marched back into the tent and apologised for the terrible things he had said, pride be damned. They must know he would never say those things if it wasn't for that bloody horcrux, he thought as he squelched along. They must be able to feel it too…

Hermione had always denied that the locket affected her and Ron hadn't really spoken to Harry properly in weeks but Ron knew that thing was bad news. From the moment he put it on, his entire body turned cold and his sense of self-worth crashed through the floor. Old concerns, fears he was more than ashamed of and doubts that in the cold light of day he knew were baseless, haunted him. Harry was obviously useless and cared more about stealing Hermione than the horcruxes and Hermione's constant pity for him and her heartfelt concern for Harry made him sick. Why was he even going back?

_That isn't you._

Ron shook himself and carried on walking. When the uncertainties had started plaguing the hours he wasn't wearing the horcrux, he knew he was in trouble. It was only a matter of time before the inevitable happened.

After over two hours of walking, Ron started to grow tired but persisted anyway. His stomach growled with hunger, but he knew he couldn't be too far away from the tent. It was only about eight A.M, surely they wouldn't have packed up by now? Normally they waited until at least nine-ish.

_Maybe they were so happy that you finally left that they've already gone? Maybe they went last night, just in case you came straight back? That way they could have the entire night to themselves…_

No, Ron thought scowling, Hermione ran after me. They wouldn't do that.

_They've been waiting to be alone for years. Surely they wouldn't want to waste another minute..._

Ron started running on his aching legs, his bag hitting his back in a painful rhythm, in the desperate hope he could out run the dark thoughts circling his head that he knew deep down weren't his.

_You've been gone, what? Four? Five hours? Who knows what they could've got up to in that time?_

"No," he panted through gritted teeth. "They wouldn't- It's all in my head-"

_Come on now, Weasley. There isn't anything in your head, just like your mother always thought. Sweet, happy, idiot Ron, the runt of the litter…_

"Shut up," Ron breathed, knowing he must look quite deranged. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

_Maybe if you were actually smart, like Harry, she would've actually looked at you twice…_

"SHUT UP!" he roared, causing a flock of birds to launch themselves noisily away from the trees they were resting in.

Breathing heavily, Ron stopped running and tried to retain control of his own thoughts. When he dropped his bag and leant forwards on his knees trying to stop the stitch in his ribs, he noticed that some of the twigs on the ground were dry. Frowning slightly, Ron looked to his right and saw a good sized patch of dry sticks and leaves that stood out in contrast to the darker ones that surrounded them. Now that Ron looked at it, the patch was roughly the same size as-

"The tent," he gasped. He looked around and saw that this patch of trees did in fact look familiar.

Ron's heart sank. They hadn't expected him to return so they hadn't waited. They had Apparated elsewhere and he had no hope of finding them.

Sinking to his knees, Ron fought the urge to cry. It was useless. He was alone on the run and had nowhere to go. He lied down on his back and looked up through the gaps in the trees at the grey sky above. Never had he felt so empty. He had let his best friends down and they had given up on him, like he always suspected they would.

Ron started playing with the leaves either side of him in the hope it would distract him from the gnawing sensation that was threatening to engulf him. Surprisingly, his fingers found something that felt foreign and he picked it up and held it in front of his face. His guilt trebled when he realised it was one of Hermione's gloves that she must've buried under the topmost layer of undergrowth. Why? So that he could find it? So that he would know she missed him? Was it a clue to where she was now?

Sighing, Ron pocketed the glove and closed his eyes. He didn't know what the glove meant, but he knew that he couldn't lie on the forest floor all day.

His thoughts immediately jumped to the Burrow; his own bed, his family, his mother's cooking and even the ghoul. Heat flooded back into his body at the idea of a happy reunion, but it quickly faded again. While his mum had been against him leaving, she'd yell at him for coming back alone. The look of disappointment on his dad's face would surely kill him. As for Ginny's reaction… He'd be lucky to have any limbs left.

Fred and George had their own place. Surely they'd let him stay? Yes, while the twins were sometimes gits, their hearts were in the right place. They wouldn't leave him out on the streets.

Ron laughed darkly. He was clutching at straws and he knew it. While the twins weren't really all that bad, they would see his leaving as an act of cowardice (which it was, Ron thought glumly) and they would likely be just as angry as Ginny and twice as creative with their punishment.

Percy was in London, but Ron had no idea where. Not that he was even an option; after all this time, Ron was still angry with Percy for abandoning his family. With a cold wave of realisation that what he had just done mirrored his older brothers actions, Ron felt a stab of sympathy for Percy for the first time. He wondered what had happened to him. Was he still there? Had he started working for Umbridge and her foul commission? Maybe he was just as scared and as lost as the rest of them?

Charlie could be abroad for all Ron knew, so that just left Bill.

He knew Bill lived in a small cottage by the sea. He had only been there once in the summer when Bill had had the family over for dinner as a house warming party. Bill had always been the mediator among the brothers. If there had been an argument amongst the younger ones, usually Ron or Percy against the twins, Bill, as the oldest, would always step in and be fair. It wasn't a surprise to Ron when Bill became Head Boy; it was role he was born to fill.

Bill would be angry; there was no doubt about that, but he would understand, surely. Even when Ron had knocked George out that time with his broomstick, Bill had stuck up for him because he knew he had been provoked. This wasn't that much different, really. Well, it was, conceded Ron mentally, but what choice did he have?

Sighing, he stood up and collected his bag from the ground. He took one of his own gloves from one of the side pockets and buried it where he had found Hermione's, not caring what message she had been hoping to send him, he just needed to send one back.

He closed eyes, concentrated and twisted on the spot.

After a few seconds of uncomfortable compression, Ron opened his eyes and drew in a breath of salty air. He could see his brother's cottage a few hundred feet away and started heading towards it, proud to have not splinched himself twice in one day. As he drew nearer, he started to feel anxious of his Bill's reaction but he carried on. He had brought this on himself after all.

Taking a deep breath, Ron knocked on the front door and waited. Behind the door, he heard the sound of light footsteps that stopped and were followed by a gasp that Ron recognised as Fleur's. Gulping, Ron tried to not think about the usual effect his sister-in-law had on him.

"Ronald?" she whispered, sounding thoroughly shocked through the door. There was small pause before Fleur coughed and said in a stronger voice "You cannot be Ronald. 'Ee eez eel in bed."

"No, that's just the ghoul transfigured to look like me," Ron replied, hoping he was passing whatever security test Fleur was subjecting him to.

"What ees ze nickname your seester used to call me?"

"Erm…" Ron didn't know what to say. He had no idea if Fleur knew about the whole 'Phlegm' thing and he certainly didn't want to put his foot in it if she didn't.

"Ronald, I am not an eediot. Just answer ze question."

"Phlegm," he mumbled, shamefaced.

"Now, you must ask a question."

"Oh." Ron racked his brains for something only Fleur would know. In truth, he hadn't really spent much time with her.

"Erm, last Christmas, what did my mum force us to listen to on the wireless?"

"Urgh, zat Celestina woman. Seemply 'orrible."

The door flew open and Fleur pulled him inside and into a hug. She pulled back before Ron had chance to register what was going on and looked him over.

Her hair was still the shimmering river of gold he remembered and she still looked stunning with an apron on. Ron wondered how Bill lived with her all the time.

"Ronald, you 'av lost weight! What 'as 'appened to you?" she exclaimed before blinking and suddenly looking more concerned. "But where are 'Arry and 'Ermione?"

Ron averted his gaze to his feet. He couldn't say it aloud. Saying it aloud made it so much more real and Ron didn't think he could stand it.

"Zey- zey are not-"

"No, nothing like that," Ron hastily assured her. That was another thing her couldn't bear to hear out loud. If his friends died now, it would surely be his fault. "I- um… I've sort of left them."

His announcement was met with silence. Ron's eyes bore into the carpet at his feet, wishing Fleur would react, or at the very least stop staring at him.

"You left zem?"

Ron nodded. "I wanted to go back, but I ran into a group of people who tried to take me to the ministry-"

"Snatchers?"

"Sorry?"

"Snatcher's are looking up and down ze country for truants and Muggleborns," Fleur explained with a tone of disgust.

"Oh, well, yeah, but I got away and I went back." Ron swallowed. He was not going to cry. "It was too late. They'd gone." He finished at a whisper.

Fleur pulled him into the small kitchen and sat him at the table. Ron heard her rummaging in the cupboards while he held his head in his hands. The lump on his throat was choking him. The full weight of his actions fell on him and he could hear Hermione's sobs ringing in his ears. Of course she was going to stay with Harry, why did he expect anything else? Harry needed her more than he did. Harry was better looking and smarter than he was. They argued less. They were just better off without him…

The tears were burning his eyes now. What would happen if Hermione begging him to come back to her were the last words he heard her say? How would he feel if the last thing he said to Harry was a dig at his parents' deaths? How was he meant to live without either of them?

"'Ere you are," he heard Fleur say. He looked up, hastily wiping his eyes on the back of his hand and looked at the hot soup in front of him.

"Beel will be 'ome from work in an hour or so and we weel be 'aving dinner zen," she said kindly, sitting down opposite him.

Ron mumbled his thanks and started eating his soup as politely as his stabbing hunger would allow. When he had finished, Fleur took the bowl to the sink and returned with a cup of tea.

"I know 'ow you Eenglish claim to fix any problem wiz a cup of tea," she said gently. Again, she sat in front of him and looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Why did you leave zem?" she asked suddenly. Ron had been expecting these questions but not from her. He just wanted to curl up, sleep and hope that when he woke up in the morning, he would be back in the tent, freezing and hungry, with the two people he cared most about in the world. He would get up, apologise to Harry for being such an arse and then grab Hermione and snog her senseless. It would be the best morning of his life and not even You-Know-Who's soul in its entirety could ruin it.

However, Fleur seemed to want answers, not pipedreams, so he shrugged and muttered something vague about a fight with Harry.

"But you are friends," she continued in a voice Ron found annoyingly superior, "you must 'av 'ad fights before?"

"Not like this," Ron said tonelessly.

"So you walked out?"

There was a lot more to the story than that, but Ron just wanted this conversation over so he nodded his head.

"I zought you were in zat Greeffindor Beel eez always talking about? Are you not supposed to be brave?"

Again, Ron nodded. Great, now he'd let down himself, Harry, Hermione, the Order, Dumbledore AND Godric Gryffindor.

"What was zis fight about?" Fleur asked, as Ron took a sip of tea. It was too bitter for his liking, but he didn't say anything. Hermione always made his tea perfectly, without asking how he liked it. He loved how they knew each other so well. He could hear Hermione in his head, saying how it was better to talk about your problems. It felt like it would be rude not to follow her advice now, even if she had no idea.

"We just said some really horrible stuff to each other," he mumbled. "I know neither of us meant any of it but… We were just so stressed and tired…"

Ron dropped his gaze to his knees.

"And 'Ermione?" Fleur pressed as Ron's heart clenched at the mention of her name.

"What about her?"

"Where was she when zis fight 'appened?"

Ron gulped. "She was there. She tried to stop me from leaving, but- but I ignored her."

Silence fell again. Ron wanted to drink some more tea just to have something to do, but he didn't think he could swallow it.

"I asked if she wanted to leave with me," he blurted out suddenly. "She said she wanted to stay with – with Harry." He could hear his voice cracking.

Fleur drummed her perfectly manicured nails on the table top. "I wouldn't read zat much into zat."

"Sorry?"

"Was zis fight about 'Ermione?"

Ron looked up at her and shook his head, but he knew she was somehow aware of at least some of the jealousy that was corroding his insides.

Fleur shook her beautiful head and laughed silkily. "You 'av grown up so much since we first met. I remember ze boy asking me to ze ball and then running away as zo it was yesterday."

Ron blanched. He had no idea Fleur remembered that. As if his day couldn't get any worse...

"You are not zat boy anymore, Ronald. Do not be eembarrassed. I am used to men acting strangely around me. It comes with ze Veela blood."

Fleur considered him for a moment before speaking again. "Anuzzer zing zat comes with ze Veela blood, is women usually 'ate me."

"That's not true-" Ron started automatically, but she cut in.

"Shut up, you may learn something 'ere. Anyway," she continued, "ze women, zey 'ate me because I am beautiful and ze men look at me and not zem."

"What's this got to do with He-Hermione?" asked Ron, stumbling on her name.

"Every time you look at me, she is also looking, but wiz jealousy in 'er eyes."

"What?" Ron spluttered, hoping Fleur meant what he thought she meant.

"'Ermione. She wants your attention. When I am in a room wiz you, I 'ave your attention. It is neezzer of our faults; it is just 'ow nature made us."

Ron considered this for a while before he realised that maybe Hermione had liked him all along? Maybe she got jealous as well? It would explain the canaries…Yesterday this news would have been like an overdose of Felix Felicis, but now it felt like a kick in the groin.

"What does it matter now?" he grumbled. "I don't know where she is. She probably hates me. _I_ hate me."

Fleur stood up and looked thunderous. Only Fleur could make angry look so sexy. Except Hermione of course, Ron thought as yet another pang of regret went through him.

"Never say zat! You are a wonderful person, Beel 'as told me all about you." She flicked her perfect hair over her shoulder dramatically. "You can stay 'ere as long as you need, but only eef you never speak like zat again!"

Ron nodded numbly and Fleur took this as an agreement.

"Good," she stated before softening up. "You will find zem. It may take a long time, but you will find zem. Of zat, I am sure."

Fleur picked up his bag and left him in the kitchen that seemed so much duller without her presence.

Heartened by her words of confidence, and the surprise that Bill thought highly of him, Ron resolved he would find them again no matter what the cost, for he knew that he would give anything to hear Harry's laugh or Hermione's voice one more time. No amount of Dark creatures, snatchers or Voldemort himself were going to keep him away from his friends for longer than necessary.

* * *

* Line from Deathly Hallows, Chapter 8

* * *

_A/N 2: Eh, Fleur-talk. Sorry, France._

* * *

!Shameless Plug Alert!

_If anyone is interested I've started posting a new story, slightly similar to this one, called 'Harmony'. It's chronological missing moments again, but it's a helluva lot shorter and is a friendship fic about Harry and Hermione's completely platonic friendship that involves them being friends and nothing else but friends in a friendly way. There's the occasional side order or R/Hr and H/G as well. If you're not interested then that's obviously fine, but I would greatly appreciate it if you took the time to read it._

_Thank you for putting up with my feeble attempt at self-promotion._

_-HalfASlug._


	14. Broken

_A/N: Thank you to everyone to who reviewed/alerted/favourited! And thank you to everyone who answered 'Harmony's' desperate call for attention. Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!_

_A/N 2: This chapter is tiny but please don't send hate mail. The next chapter is the longest yet to make up for it._

_Also to make up for it I will share a mildly amusing story (Feel free to skip this. When I said mildly I was being generous.) The first part of this chapter (With you gone) has no dialogue and is made up solely of Hermione's thoughts. There is a part similar to this in chapter 7 but with Ron. When I first noticed this I thought "So it's a Ron monologue...a Ron-ologue!" and proceeded to snort with laughter. At my own poor joke. That was in my head.__ Whilst__ on my own. In the middle of a busy shopping centre. I have referred to it as 'The Ron-ologue' ever since. I also gave the Hermione one a stupid nickname. Have a guess what it was if you get bored while reading this chapter. The answer will be at the bottom._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling still owns Harry Potter. You'd think she'd be bored by now..._

* * *

**Broken **

( _With you gone / The promise_ )

Hermione threw the book down at the side of her bed and covered her eyes with a hand that felt tingly from where she had touched Harry's hair. Pressure was once again building behind her eyes and she was desperate to stop it. She had never seen Harry look so dejected. Losing his confidence and belief in Dumbledore had been as big a loss as his wand and _Him. _She didn't know how much more he could take. Moreover, she didn't know how much _she_ could take. She was all he had left in the world. She had to stay strong.

Unfortunately, Hermione felt anything but strong. For the past month she had been scared, upset, angry and hopeless all at the same time. Now she just felt so tired that her bones ached. She was tired of worrying, tired of the hunger, tired of the whole plan. Sometimes she imagined walking out but knew she never could. For one thing, she had nowhere to go. For another, she couldn't do that to Harry - unlike some people.

Something had changed between her and Harry over the few weeks they had been alone. They had never been so close, yet at the same time they had never been so separate. They went days without speaking, but it had got to the stage where they didn't have to use words to communicate; they could read each other's actions. Occasionally she blamed Harry for everything being so messed up and couldn't be in the tent with him. Other times she would stare at his silhouette on the canvas while he took watch, taking comfort from his presence.

At night he would have his nightmares and she would imagine her own.

In her darkest moments, usually when she was at wearing the horcrux, she would find herself fantasising about her marching up to Harry and just kissing him, just for some form of comfort. This scared her more than anything. While she was desperate for some kind of release, she knew this would be a huge mistake. She had never felt that way about Harry and knew she would regret it instantly. When did she become so reckless and stupid?

The answer was obvious and at the forefront of her mind as always - when he left. When he had broken, shattered her completely and scattered the unwanted pieces into the wind without a care in the world.

Hermione crawled under her blanket and tried to stop thinking but she never could. She knew he was unhappy, she knew he was frustrated, but she had never expected him to walk out like that. While she was confused about his feelings towards her, she had never doubted his friendship, but now even that was in tatters. Friends turn around when their friends call them. Friends don't leave their friends crying in the rain.

She had long ago given up on trying to convince herself that he hadn't heard her screaming his name. Maybe the wind was too loud? Maybe her own sobs cloaked her words? Or maybe he didn't care? Maybe he never had?

Screwing up her face against the pain, Hermione pulled her blanket tighter around her, when she realised with a jolt that it wasn't her blanket; it was his. On that awful night Harry had covered her with it while she cried and she had been using it ever since. At first it had smelt like him and Hermione used to pretend he was still here, but now you could hardly smell him underneath her own odour. It was like watching him fade away all over again.

When he had first left the pain had almost seemed physical. Her stomach was in knots, her throat raw from sobbing, and her eyes burning from sleep deprivation, but now nothing truly touched her. Every piece of bad news just felt like another faint blow to her abdomen. It was as though she was in a bubble, watching the rest of the world fall apart while she walked through it indifferently. His betrayal and abandonment felt real, it was there in her chest every morning when she woke up and saw his bunk empty, but it no longer hurt. It was nothing more than another part of her now.

How could he do this? She had loved him and he had left her. Every time she thought this she used the past tense. _I hate him_, she told herself. _I don't care what happens to him. I hope he never comes back._ She knew they were lies, but maybe if she repeated them enough, a steady mantra in her head, she would one day believe them. Harry's words from a few minutes ago flashed through her mind – "_This isn't love, this mess he's left me in. I don't know who he loved… but it was never me._"* The tears started falling. She empathised with him more than she would care to admit.

She wanted him back. After Godric's Hollow Hermione had been frightened to be with Harry, though she tried not to show it. His… trance… had terrified her. The things he had muttered, the curses he had screamed… the red gleam in his eyes… she just wanted to forget it. She doubted any book would help her work out what had happened and she didn't want to tell Harry either. He had more than enough on his plate. If _he_ had been with her it wouldn't have been as bad. They could have discussed what had happened, found a solution, but instead Hermione had another burden on her shoulders.

It was Boxing Day. Hermione had been keeping note of the days after she had forgotten her birthday but had lost track again after he had walked out. Fortunately she realised it was Christmas Eve at Godric's Hollow. Hermione had been looking forward to New Year's Eve. 1997 had been a terrible year. Dumbledore and Mad-Eye had died, _He _had been poisoned, the ministry had fallen and it had started and ended with her not talking to one of her best friends. Although she couldn't see 1998 being much better, she just wanted it to end. It felt like a new start. Optimism was something so rarely felt these days that she clung to it, no matter how naïve she felt. Hermione knew that New Year's Day would come and all would still be the same, but she couldn't help but hope.

Hermione thought about Him at the Burrow with his family as she closed her eyes and tried to sleep. She wondered if he ever thought about her, freezing with the weight of the world on her shoulders. Did he ever have sleepless nights, worrying about her safety? Did he ever stop and think about the two best friends he abandoned in a tent, left to fight the horrors of the world without him?

* * *

Harry walked out of the tent to take watch as Ron started pulling his pyjamas out of his bag. His chest hurt from Hermione punching him, his back ached from sleeping rough for the past few nights and he was freezing cold from jumping into the pond, but he couldn't stop smiling. He was back.

Ron knew his return wouldn't be all ticker tape and confetti, but he hadn't expected it to be that, well, _hectic. _First he saved Harry's life, then he had been emotionally tortured by a piece of jewellery and this was shortly followed by him destroying a fragment of a Dark wizard's soul. It would've seemed unfair, but Ron knew he had a lot of making up to do. He doubted he would ever fully forgive himself for what he had done. Unfortunately someone else seemed hell bent on condemning him as well.

Hermione's anger was not unexpected. In fact, Ron was just grateful she wasn't armed when he had walked in, otherwise he would probably be dead right now. As he got changed, Ron wondered if he should maybe sleep on one of the armchairs in case Hermione tried to attack him in his sleep, but he decided against this; he was determined to make up for his weeks of absence and now was as good a time as any to start.

He approached his bunk next to Hermione's and remembered a few months ago when he would have given anything to never sleep in it again and go home. It had taken the worst mistake of his life to make him realise that he belonged wherever Hermione was. As he got in, he noticed it wasn't the same blanket that it was before he left. After a few seconds he noticed that it smelt like that Amortentia potion - like her. Ron looked over at Hermione. She had her back to him and was unnaturally still. He saw the blanket that was tightly wrapped around her had small hole near the hem - just like his had had. Guilt swept over him as he thought again about what he had put her through these past weeks.

"Hermione?" he whispered tentatively.

Silence. He hadn't really expected much more.

"Look," he began, propping himself up on his elbow, "I know you're listening. I screwed up, big time, and I know you hate me, but it's not as much as I hate myself."

She still didn't turn around. Ron glanced to the entrance of the tent to check that Harry wasn't listening. While he was incredibly grateful for his forgiveness and he didn't really have any secrets from him anymore, he still didn't want him to hear this.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I'm so sorry. I was just so angry and - and messed up. I was going mental. I just couldn't take it anymore." Somehow Hermione's silence was worse than her punches. At least if she was angry she cared. Panic and shame started to build up inside his chest as he scrambled around his apology. He had to make her understand. "Please say something, Hermione."

They were only a few feet apart, but the gap seemed infinite. Ron put his head in his hands so he didn't have to see it. He should have known this wouldn't have been easy; he had never seen her so angry in his life. Not only had she said 'arse', a word she frequently chided him for saying, but she had physically attacked him and used his full name, something she had never done before. Things had never been so broken between them.

"I was an idiot, I know, but please know I didn't mean it," he pleaded desperately. "Please forgive me, Hermione, you've got to forgive me-"

"I haven't _got _to do anything," she growled through gritted teeth.

How dare he tell her what to do? He showed up after _weeks_ and expected everything to be okay, for her to just run up to him and give him a hug? _No_, Hermione thought defiantly, _I'm not that pathetic._ She hated the way he made her lose control of her emotions. He walked out, she had cried for days. He came back and she attacked him. Hermione liked to think she was a level headed, dignified person, but when Ron Weasley was involved she was capable of anything. The power he had over her scared her, made her vulnerable and she detested it.

"I-I didn't mean it like that," he stuttered behind her. "I just-"

She heard him sigh. Hermione knew him so well she knew exactly the expression he would have on his face. It would be that dejected, puppy-eyed face where he would purse his lips slightly. She wanted nothing more than to start throwing things at it, but instead she stayed stock still. If she didn't speak again maybe he would take the hint?

"I know you're angry and you have every right to be," Ron said in a low voice. Something about his tone had changed. Hermione had never heard him sound so serious. "If there's one thing that has always amazed me about you, it's your capacity to forgive me for all the stupid and spiteful things I've done."

He paused and Hermione was biting her bottom lip to stop her interrupting. She knew she had forgiven Ron a lot of things in the past, but only when she felt he deserved it. Hermione didn't believe he would ever earn her forgiveness this time.

"I know I've never screwed up this badly before, but I _am_ going to make up for it," Ron said quietly. The conviction in his voice was evident in every syllable. "I don't care how long it takes, Hermione, because I'm going to be right here, waiting. I'm never going to leave you again. I promise."

Hermione heard him roll over in his bed and said no more. Her lip started hurting and she realised she had been biting down on it a lot harder than she had been intending to. She could feel the familiar pressure building behind her tired eyes and the lump growing in the back of her dry throat, but she forced the tears away so Ron wouldn't notice.

She hated him for making her wish he was telling the truth, that he would never leave her. She loved him even more because she knew he was.

* * *

* Line from Deathly Hallows, Chapter 18

* * *

_A/N 3: Answer: Her-liloquy. Like soliloquy, geddit?_

_Did you guess? Did you care?_

_Join us next time for another round of 'The Author Has Too Much Time On Her Hands'!_

_Yes, another A/N: I felt really bad for the teeny tiny nature of this chapter so I got off my backside and put the finish touches to a post-Hogwarts R/Hr oneshot that I've been thinking about for ages. Yeah, that's right - I now write grown-ups. Anyway, it's called 'The Night Before Christmas', feel free to check it out. I hope you don't hate it. I promise next chapter won't end in another shameless plug._


	15. Road To Redemption

_A/N: Thanks to all reviewers/favouriters/alerters. Treat yourselves to a cake._

_This chapter contains the whole 'Trio and Co turn up at Shell Cottage after visiting the Malfoys'' which I think has been written by 1 or 2 (million) fanfic writers so the usual Stop me if you've read this one before policy applies._

Warning: _Aftermath _(the second part) contains enough F-bombs to bump the rating of this fic up a bit but as the rest of it is fairly family-friendly I thought if I gave enough warning about the foul language nobody would shout at me. It is only a couple of paragraphs in one section so hopefully no-one will be too offended._  
_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling is the one who owns Harry Potter but I'm Brian and so's my wife!_

* * *

**Road to Redemption **

( _Harry's leadership and other doubts / Aftermath / Just your expression / In Shell Cottage garden_ )

With a crack, three figures appeared in a small clump of trees next to some farm land. Hermione subconsciously glanced to her right to check Ron hadn't splinched himself again before dropping both his and Harry's hands to retrieve the tent from her bag. Harry quickly circled them casting the protective charms that were now second nature to them all. By the time he was finished, Hermione had erected the tent and he had marched inside, threw himself onto his bunk and started rummaging around in the pouch around his neck.

Fury pounced on Hermione and she made to storm into the tent, but she felt a slight pressure on her upper arm. She turned to see Ron was holding her.

"Leave it," he said evenly.

"No," she hissed back. "I am _sick_ of him and that snitch! He just sits there all day playing with it and talking to it and-"

"Let him."

Glaring at Ron, she shrugged him off and stormed away from the tent to the edge of the field they were next to, but remained in the shadows. It was nearing twilight and the sky had a purple hue to it. The air was warmer than it had been in weeks and the breeze was pleasant. They had spent the day in Upper Flagley looking for nothing in particular and it had turned in to a bigger job than they had thought. The village was a labyrinth of winding lanes and identical cottages. In the end they realised the only way they could search the place before nightfall was to split up. Hermione had transfigured Ron so that he was almost unrecognisable with a large beard and broad nose, while she had stuck under the Invisibility Cloak with Harry.

They had no choice about this arrangement as her and Harry were far too recognisable to the wizard on the street, while Ron wasn't. It had meant that Hermione had spent the past few hours with a distracted and listless Harry who was as useful as he was fun. His only valid contribution was finding that morning's newspaper and pointing out that it was the end of February, but not a leap year so at least the weather would get warmer a day sooner. However, he managed to spoil it again by trying to get her to discuss the ridiculous theories surrounding his new hallows obsession. By the time they had met up with Ron again to find somewhere to camp for the night, she had been on the verge of hexing him.

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself. While she was angry with Harry, she didn't want to start a fight. The last thing they needed was another fight.

"I know it's annoying, but he'll get bored eventually," came Ron's voice from behind her. She jumped as she turned around having not noticed him.

"When?" she snapped back at him. "You know what he's like! Remember his obsession with Malfoy? This could last for weeks, months even!"

Ron kicked at the grass stating to poke its way out of ground at his feet, obviously refraining from pointing out that Harry had been right to be suspicious of Malfoy. Hermione was ready with her response; it didn't matter if he was right, it was still unhealthy to obsess over something this much.

"We'll just keep an eye on him," Ron shrugged. "Like we always have."

Hermione's irritation doubled. She let out a growl of frustration and nearly started pulling her hair out. What was the point in being vexed if Ron wasn't going to play along? While she much preferred getting along with Ron to when they argued, the Ron she had to put up with since they had returned from the Lovegoods' had been irritatingly compliant and agreeable. While she knew why he was acting like this (to get back in her good books) and he was perfectly lovely to be around, it wasn't Ron. Ron would've happily stepped up to the plate as her sparring partner and help her get rid of the tension that gripped her.

"Look, Hermione, I know Harry is being difficult and I know you're not happy with him, but this isn't solving anything," said Ron placating. "Let's just sit down for a bit, yeah?"

Hermione was very tempted to send another flock of canaries at him. When had he become so democratic and she so tempted to lash out violently? What had happened to the universe?

She watched as Ron settled down on a large tree root and looked up at the sky. With a final calming breath, she sat a few feet away from him on another root and observed the sky dissolve into inky blues and blacks above her. Her mood melted away with the natural light, as her and Ron sat in silence.

Being around Ron had become peculiar. While she was far from forgiving him, she was talking to him and, while she was still completely in love with him, she couldn't help but try to hate him a little. The scars of his desertion were always going to far out last his absence. Hermione just wanted them to heal so she and Ron could return to their status quo; longing looks, tentative touches and hidden meanings.

Yes, while the norm was maddening and frustrating, it was better than the awkward quandary they found themselves in now.

Hermione heard a rustling sound beside her and turned to see Ron fidgeting to get something out of his jeans front pocket. He pulled his hand out and fumbled, dropping something on the floor. Hermione glanced at it and saw it was her glove, the glove she had left under the topmost layer of leaves the morning after Ron had left. Before Ron noticed that she had seen the glove, he had scooped it back into his pocket, his face showing the start of a blush.

He had gone back, just like he had told her, and was now carrying around her glove.

"Here," he said kindly, handing her something and snapping her thoughts back to their conversation and not a rainy forest in late autumn. "I managed to get a couple in Flagley."

She recognised the wrapper in Ron's hand and her jaw dropped.

"Chocolate Frogs?" she asked in shock. "You risked getting caught for _Chocolate Frogs?_"

Ron balked. "No, I wasn't- I just thought- I-" His face fell and he softly threw the frog into Hermione's lap and then sat back, staring at his hands. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Hermione glared at the chocolate in front of her. Here again was Ron conceding. Some part of her was flattered that he was going to all this effort to win her forgiveness, but it wasn't helping her.

They sat without speaking while Ron ate his frog, all the while Hermione didn't take her eyes off hers. She wanted to let go of the pain and just get on with her life, but she couldn't, not yet. For the first time in their friendship she felt like she couldn't trust him and she had no idea what to do about it.

She was pulled away from her thoughts when she saw a single daisy peeking out of the edge of the field. Without really thinking she pulled it out and twizzled it between her fingers and remembered the game she used to play as a child. As gently as she could, she pulled out the first petal.

_He loves me._

Dancing at the wedding.

She dropped the tiny shard of white and reached for the one it had stood next to.

_He loves me not._

Shouting at her at the Yule Ball.

_He loves me._

Holding her at Dumbledore's funeral.

_He loves me not._

Snapping at her cooking.

_He loves me._

Avoiding Lavender.

_He loves me not._

Being with Lavender in the first place.

Hermione continued with her slow destruction of the small flower and the deconstruction of Ron's every movement over the past six and a half years until, at last, she reached the last two petals.

_He loves me not._

He left.

_He loves me._

He came back.

Hermione blinked and stared at the daisy, wondering if there was any truth behind it when a voice next to her broke into her consciousness.

"What are you doing to that flower?"

She quickly dropped what was left of the daisy and looked at Ron's faintly amused expression.

"Oh, some silly Muggle thing," she replied evasively.

They held eye contact for a few moments when Ron started to open his mouth. Hermione knew what was coming and interrupted.

"Hermione, I'm so-"

"STOP APOLOGISING!" Ron looked baffled at her unexpected shriek and she ran her hand through her hair before continuing. "I get it. You're sorry. Just stop. Just stop pushing me," she said wearily.

The familiar self-pity found its way onto Ron's features and he slowly shook his head. "I'm sor-"

"RON!"

"I was apologising for apologising that time!" he cried indignantly, holding his hands up.

"Yes, well, just stop it," Hermione snapped. "From now on don't say sorry for anything until I say you can."

"That's ridiculous!"

"You're ridiculous!"

They glowered at each other for a few seconds before Ron cracked a smile that Hermione reluctantly returned.

"Ah, pointless squabbling," sighed Ron, leaning back. "Just like the good old times."

Hermione laughed softly before resting against the tree trunk behind her and looked out at the rolling hills that resembled a patchwork quilt on the earth. Finally, she had pushed Ron and he had pushed back. She could feel the tension leaving her body.

"I know it wasn't you," she whispered into the near darkness around them. "I know it was the locket."

Hermione turned to look at Ron and found his eyes looked a little watery, which startled her. She had only seen him cry once in all the years she had known him.

"When you kept telling me the locket was evil, I didn't believe you, but then when-when you left…" Hermione broke off to compose herself. They hadn't discussed what had happened after he left and she felt as though she was exposing too much of herself. "It changes you. It made me think things I knew weren't true. It made me doubt Harry, you and myself. Everything was so much worse with that thing on."

Ron held her gaze, but then looked out towards the field that was now mostly obscured by the night. "No one else walked out though, did they?" he growled.

Hermione stared at his profile. His regret was written on every part of it. It was clear he was stood at the gate at the end of the path that led to redemption, ready and willing to walk it, no matter what obstacle came to be in his way. He was just waiting for her to open the gate.

"No," she said in a voice that was barely audible over the light breeze, "but I thought about it."

Ron's eyes snapped back to her face in surprise.

"Some nights, when it was my turn with the horcrux, I very nearly did. One time I even started packing." Hermione didn't know why she was whispering. Maybe if she didn't hear her own weakness and near failure, she wouldn't have to acknowledge it?

"You didn't go through with it though," Ron replied, his voice cracking.

"Only because I didn't have anywhere else to go. I'm effectively homeless, remember?" she finished with a dark chuckle.

Ron smiled at her and seemed to take strength from her admission. Lost in his own thoughts, he stared at his trainers, his brow slightly creased. He really was an incredible person; Hermione just wished she could somehow make him see it for himself.

Suddenly remembering it was there, Hermione picked up the Chocolate Frog from her lap and started to unwrap it as a gesture of peace. Standing up and heading slowly back to the tent, she bit into it and, thinking sadly what her parents would say about her eating chocolate before bed, examined the card. When she read the name at the top, she froze. Spinning around to face Ron again, she called out to him.

"Yeah?" he replied without turning around.

"Did you know that Cornelius Agrippa was a celebrated German healer and author who was imprisoned in 1533 by Muggles for his book series entitled _De Occulta Philosophia Libri Tres _because they believed it was a work of evil?"

There was a small pause. Hermione could feel the excitement building within herself.

"You'll be surprised to hear that I actually did," he laughed, finally turning around. "What's with the sudden History of-"

His jaw dropped when he finally saw Hermione holding up the up the Chocolate Frog card she had just read from.

"No…" he gasped, scrambling to his feet. "It isn't…"

Biting her lip, Hermione nodded and held it out for him to take.

Joy flooded Ron's features in a way that made him look like a four year old boy. He ran up to her, briefly stopped to check the card to make sure she was telling the truth before her engulfed her into a bear hug. Laughing, he picked her up and spun her around. When he gently put her back down, they were both smiling so widely that it hurt. The muscles in Hermione's face felt foreign to her, it had been so long since she had used them. It was so rare to come across anything positive that even something as unimportant as Ron collection becoming complete felt like the best news in the world.

"I can't believe it," he whispered hoarsely. "After all this time I get the final one out here." He shook his head, looking around at the bare branches above them. "It's only been what?" He quickly did the maths. "Twelve years?"

At his words Hermione suddenly felt sure she was forgetting something. She looked away from his grinning face around at the bare trees, some of which had started to grow buds. Hermione loved the start of spring, where nature started to come back to life again…

"Hermione? You all right?"

_"At least it isn't a leap year, though. Decent weather is a whole day nearer."_

Another wide smile spread across her face as she finally handed the card to Ron, who took it with a grateful "thanks." She flung her arms around his neck and closed her eyes as he hesitantly hugged her back.

"Happy birthday, Ron," she whispered before pulling away and headed back towards the tent, leaving Ron with a look confusion and then delight on his face.

* * *

Ron's feet hit the ground and he blinked rapidly, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the sudden darkness. In one of his hands was an unfamiliar wand but it was what was in his other hand that was important right now. Hermione's arm was draped around his shoulders and her whole body was limp but he could she her chest gently rising. He stuffed the wand into his pocket and scooped Hermione up gently and started running towards the cottage in front of him. Panic clawed at his insides, making him nauseous. Somewhere behind him he heard the crack of Harry apparating but he didn't turn around to check.

He reached the cottage and found the front door was already open. In the hallway he saw Dean, Luna looking relieved to see him but Bill stepped forwards, his wand raised.

"Who was the person who-" Bill began but Ron cut in angrily.

"I haven't got time for this, Bill!" he shouted.

"I'm not letting you in to this house until I'm sure you're who you say you are!" Bill countered.

Ron glared at his older brother. His arms were starting to ache from Hermione's dead weight.

"Move!"

"Not until-"

"I'm Ron fucking Weasley. This is Hermione Granger and she is really fucking hurt right now SO GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" he roared, finally pushing his way into the living room and laying Hermione down on the sofa.

Ron crouched by her side and pushed her hair out of her face. The cut on her neck was bleeding so he wiped the blood off with his own sleeve as he heard Bill enter the room.

"What the hell is going on, Ron? What happened to her?" he asked, gesturing to Hermione's limp form. Ron ignored him. "Dean said something about you being captured and Bellatrix Les-"

"DON'T SAY THAT NAME!" Ron yelled, spinning around.

"What eez all zis?" came Fleur's voice from the doorway. "Ron! What- what az 'appened?"

"I can't tell you," Ron stated clearly. They were wasting time.

Bill looked as though he wanted to argue but thought better of it. Instead he ran his hand through his long hair and paled slightly as he looked at Hermione.

"Where's Harry?" he asked in a voice of determined calm.

"Outside."

Without another word Bill and Fleur left the room. Ron turned back to Hermione. She still hadn't moved since he had brought her here. He gathered the cushions from the armchair and placed them gently under her head. Though the danger had passed he was still scared. They had all come closer to dying than ever before. For a horrifying ten minutes he had been convinced he would lose Hermione. She had been tied directly behind him when they were captured. He hadn't been able to see her before he was taken down to the cellar…

Ron could see her now though; barely conscious but alive. She was covered in cuts from where the chandelier fell on her but Ron knew they were just superficial. It still didn't make it any less painful to see.

"Hermione?" he whispered shakily, placing his hand gently on her cheek. He could've sworn she leant into his palm.

There was movement in the hallway as her heard Dean and Fleur re-enter the cottage. Both of them hurried up stairs. Ron picked up a blanket from the arm of the sofa and covered Hermione with it. Before Ron had chance to do anything else to help her Bill had come back into the room and was looking furious.

"Tell me what happened," he demanded.

"No," said Ron.

"Don't be stupid," Bill snarled taking a step towards Ron.

"I'm not!" Ron snapped, "We're not allowed to tell you!"

Bill looked as though he might punch Ron but he didn't back away. He was taller than Bill now.

"I don't care what Dumbledore told you to do, you are clearly in over your heads!" shouted Bill flinging his arms in the air. "This isn't school anymore! This is a war!"

"Don't you think I fucking know that?" Ron was sick of being treated like a little kid. While he may have been scared he had never felt older in his life. "I know what's going on!"

"I don't think you do! Look at her, Ron," Bill countered, pointing at Hermione. "When are you going to start taking this seriously?"

"I AM TAKING THIS FUCKING SERIOUSLY!" The fear, panic and frustration of the past couple of hours welled up inside of Ron and he completely lost control. "I KNOW SHE NEARLY DIED, BILL, I WAS THERE! I HEARD EVERY FUCKING SCREAM!"

Bill looked taken aback by Ron's outburst and stared at him. Ron saw the anger leave his brothers eyes and be replaced by sympathy and worry but he couldn't stop shouting. Tears were filling his eyes but it didn't matter.

"WE KNOW WHAT'S AT STAKE! NOW STOP FUCKING INTERAGATING ME AND HELP HER!"

Ron glared at Bill, breathing heavily when he heard an almost inaudible voice behind him speak.

"Ron?"

He whipped around and saw Hermione looking at him through half-closed eyes. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed her hand.

"What is it?" he breathed.

"Stop swearing."

Ron chuckled weakly and Hermione gave him a small smile that seemed to cost her a lot of effort.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. He heard footsteps and a door close in the distance.

Hermione grimaced and tried to sit up but he gently held her down.

"Been better," she mumbled. "Where's Harry?"

"He's alright."

She smiled again. Even though she seemed ok Ron could feel a tear falling down his cheek, his chest aching.

"I-I'm sorry, Hermione, I-I should've stopped her. I didn't- I couldn't-" he stuttered, unsure of what he was saying. All he wanted was for her to understand.

Frowning slightly, Hermione gave his hand a squeeze. "How did we escape?" she asked.

"We got taken to the basement and Ollivander and Luna were there." Hermione looked as though she wanted to interrupt but for once she didn't and continued listening contently. "Then I-I don't know what happened but Dobby showed up."

"_Dobby!_"

"I know," smiled Ron. Hermione always seemed to over re-act whenever house-elves were mentioned. "Anyway, he could apparate out so he took, Dean, Luna and Olivander here-"

"Where is here?" inquired Hermione, looking at something other than Ron for the first time since she woke up.

"Bill and Fleur's cottage. Anyway, upstairs they heard the crack noise and they sent Wormtail down to investigate." Hermione knotted her brow in concentration, trying to recall the incident. "When he opened the cellar door, me and Harry-"

"Harry and I."

"_Harry and I_ over powered him and headed for- for the drawing room."

"But you didn't have a wand."

Ron looked at Hermione. The image of Pettigrew's choking purple face flashed before his eyes causing a stab of nausea. She didn't need to know what happened yet.

"It was two on one. _Anyway_ we took his wand and they were about- about to-"

Ron dropped his gaze. The malevolent grin and hunger in Greyback's expression would haunt him for years. If they had arrived even a second later…Hermione seemed to understand the unsaid words and gave his hand a small squeeze. Since when was she supposed to be the one doing the comforting?

"So we rushed in and I disarmed Be-_her, _Harry stunned Malfoy's dad but then she had pulled a kn-knife and was-"

Ron's voice gave out again. His eyes found the wound on Hermione's neck. She noticed his gaze and raised her hand gingerly to feel her neck. Her eyes widened in shock and Ron started talking again so she wouldn't have to think about it.

"But then Dobby came back. He dropped a chandelier on her but she jumped out of the way and it landed on that goblin and you. Then- well, I went to pull you out so I don't know what happened but next thing I know Harry is chucking a wand at me and I apparated here."

Hermione was silent while the story of their miraculous escape sank in.

"You saved my life," she said simply.

Before today Ron thought that he had loved Hermione Granger. He thought that these feelings had scared him. He thought that they had made him angry and happy all at the same time. It was this moment, as his tear filled blue eyes stared into her strong brown ones that he realised he had been wrong. What he felt before was nothing to what he felt now. Ron never thought he could love anyone or anything as deeply as he did when he saw that even after all the suffering his Hermione was still there. The room could've exploded and he wouldn't have noticed.

Fleur came back into the room, a bottle in her dainty hand and a change of clothes under her arm.

"Ron, can you move pleeze? I need to 'elp 'Ermione," she said softly.

Ron shook his head and gripped Hermione's hand tighter as Fleur kneelt down next to him.

"Pleeze, Ron," Fleur said, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Zis eez important."

Shaking his head again, he looked imploringly into her eyes. "I promised I wouldn't leave her. I promised."

He knew he sounded childish but leaving Hermione's side was the last thing he wanted to do right now. When he had made that promise he had had every intention of keeping it. The evening's events had forced him to break it. When Hermione had needed him most, he hadn't been there until it was almost too late. There was no way he was going to leave now. Fleur didn't seem to understand.

"You can wait outside-"

"Ron," Hermione said, and he turned to look at her. Her brown eyes were glistening with tears now, "you can go."

His heart plummeted.

"You- you want me to go?" he asked dejectedly.

"No," Hermione smiled, "but I know that you'll come back."

Understanding this to mean that she had fully forgiven him for leaving them last year, Ron grinned back and, with one last squeeze of her hand left the room. He went to the kitchen, where he found Bill. Ron hadn't even noticed he'd left the room. Realising he had sworn quite a lot at his brother during their last conversation, he dug his hands into his pockets and opening his mouth to apologise but Bill cut him off.

"It's ok. I understand," he said, smiling. "What happened to your face?"

Ron gingerly reached up and prodded his cheek, which only just noticed was swollen and ached.

"Got punched," he mumbled, still touching his cheek, trying to work out how big the bruise was.

"Could've been worse," joked Bill, weakly, gesturing as the deep scars that adorned his face.

"Yeah," Ron snorted, "I could have hair like a girl."

"You _have_ got hair like a girl!"

Ron ran a hand through his hair and realised it was so long it now reached his shoulders and had started curling at the ends.

Bill laughed at his stunned expression before his face hardened and he walked forward to pull Ron into a short hug.

"I tried to take her place," Ron mumbled, gripping the back of Bill's robes. "They wouldn't let me. I tried to take her place." He didn't know why he was explaining this. It did little to ease the guilt and shock he still felt.

Bill pulled away and grasped his shoulders tightly. "It's ok. You're all safe now."

They stood in silence for a few moments before Bill spoke again.

"You-Know-Who knows you're with Harry now so the family have had to go into hiding."

Ron leant back on the counter top rubbed his face in his hands.

"I'm sor-"

"Don't be," Bill interrupted again. "We've been expecting it. Mum, Dad, Ginny and the twins are at Aunt Muriel's. They're all fine."

Relief flooded Ron's body. It had been months since he had heard any news of his family but now he knew they were all safe, probably highly aggravated by being at Muriel's, but safe. Ron nodded stiffly in appreciation of the news.

"Look Ron, I know you can't tell me what happened," Bill said quietly, "but try and see it from my point of view. A boy we suspected to be dead and two known prisoners show up saying you've all been captured, followed by you and an injured Hermione and then Undesirable Number One turns up with a crippled goblin and a dead elf! What was I suppos-"

"What?"

Ron's veins turned to ice. He had misheard surely, Bill had misspoken…

"Well, Harry arrived with that goblin and a dead house-elf and-"

"Dobby isn't dead. He- he was the one that saved us. He was fine," Ron blurted out. Bill looked at him confused before his mouth opened in horror when he realised what was going on.

"No…" muttered Ron, "He- he's fine…"

Bill moved forward and rested his hand on Ron's shoulder. Ron searched his eyes for some sign that this was a poor joke but couldn't find any.

"When I got there," Bill said softly, "it looked as though he had been stabbed in the chest. I-I'm sorry. I thought you knew."

Ron screwed his face up and let out an inhuman howl of grief and frustration. This wasn't fair. Dobby had conquered his worst fear to save them and Ron would never get the chance to thank him. He thought of Harry and his insides twisted. How much more loss could one bloke take?

Walking away from Bill so he wouldn't see the fresh tears, he stood in front of the kitchen window and saw his best friend in the darkness digging a hole he now knew to be a grave. The world had changed so much in three hours. Ron no longer felt like a boy of eighteen but a man who had responsibilities greater than anything he could've possibly imagined. It was as if his childhood had ended in front of him and he knew he would never get it back. He gripped the window sill in attempt to stop his hands shaking.

He steadied his breathing and tried to think of what to do. The obvious thing was to help Harry, but something else needed to be done first. He wiped his face, turned on his heel and walked back into the living room.

When he got there he saw Hermione was still on the sofa but she was now sitting up and looking a lot stronger than before, her still slightly shaking form now wrapped in a dressing gown he recognised as Fleur's. Her ripped clothes she had been wearing before were folded neatly on the arm while Fleur was sat next to her with an arm around her. Most of the cuts that had marred Hermione's skin were now invisible, thanks to the almost empty bottle of Dittany that sat on the coffee table. Upon his arrival, Hermione looked up and beamed at him. This face gave him the courage to do what he knew he was about to.

He sat on the sofa, on the opposite side to Fleur, and took Hermione's hand again. Now she was a more awake she looked slightly flustered by this display of intimacy.

"How're you feeling?" he asked, looking directly into her eyes.

"A lot better, thank you," she replied. Her smile faltered. "Ron? What's wrong?"

Ron blinked. He couldn't bear to put her through what he had just been through but, he thought sadly, Hermione's childhood innocence had probably been destroyed a few hours earlier in the Malfoys' drawing room. He opened his mouth to speak but the look in her eyes seemed to tell her nearly all she needed to know.

"Who?" she whispered. Ron could feel her shaking next to him.

"Dobby," he murmured.

Hermione closed her eyes and leant into Ron, who put an arm around her trembling shoulders as she began to cry. They sat like this for a few minutes until Hermione spoke again.

"How's Harry?" she asked in a thick voice.

"He-he's outside," Ron explained, "digging the grave."

Hermione sat up and looked Ron in the face. Was it his imagination or did she suddenly look older?

"You want to go and help him, don't you?" she whispered.

Ron stared at her. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. He gulped and nodded his head.

"I'll stay here if you want me to," he offered but he knew her answer before she had given it.

"No, you should go. He needs you," she whispered, a sad smile on her lips.

Ron pulled her into a hug and closed his eyes. Just a few hours ago he thought he was never going to get the chance to do this again. This embrace felt more powerful than any curse he knew of and was reluctant to end it. All too soon Ron broke away, kissed Hermione on the cheek and went into the hall.

On the bottom stair sat Dean, with his head in his hands. Ron coughed to alert him of his presence.

"Alright, mate?" Dean said looking up. "Luna's upstairs with Ollivander. I don't really know what to do with myself."

Silently Ron withdrew the wand from his pocket and gave it a complicated twirl. Out of thin air appeared a small shovel. It looked rather fragile but Ron felt proud of himself anyway. He repeated the action and handed the spare shovel to Dean.

"How about you pay Dobby back? He saved your life," he said harshly. He had never quite forgiven Dean for going out with Ginny and now he was just sat here while Harry was out there on his own. Dean stared at the shovel for a moment and Ron thought he was going to refuse but instead Dean took it from him and followed him outside. Wordlessly, the two of them made their way over the bushes at the back of the cottage.

It was only as Ron walked out of the door that he realised he had, for the first time in his life, kissed Hermione. It wasn't as if it was a conscious decision he had made, he had just done it as a reflex. The thing that shocked him about this was that when she had kissed him on the cheek, all those years ago, he had been struck dumb and was confused for hours. Now it had felt like the most natural thing in the world.

As he reached Harry and started silently digging Ron thought about everything that had happened between him and Hermione over the past couple of years and how far they had come. With the power of hindsight he could see how stupid he was for thinking she had liked Harry. It was him who she had danced with at the wedding. It was him who Hermione seemed scared half to death of losing the night Mad-Eye died. It was him who she had asked to Slughorn's party. It was him who she nagged, got frustrated with and made her angrier than anyone else could. He was the one who made her smile the most, who cheered her up when she was upset and who calmed her down when she was stressed. It had been him all along.

The sweat dripped off his brow as he continued to dig but he didn't wipe it away. He couldn't believe he had missed what had been right in front of him all this time and what he knew he had thrown away. For there was no way that Hermione still liked him after all he had done. He had pushed her patience and let her down far too many times for him to expect her to even talk to him anymore. It was a miracle that they were still friends.

He looked across at Dobby's body and sighed. There were more important things to worry about than the love lives of two teenagers. Like Bill had said, there was a war going on. Ron would just have to put this all behind him, if he could, and deal with the task in hand. He would fight to the death to keep Hermione safe but he wouldn't tell her how he felt. He had risked their friendship enough as it was. It was only tonight, when he had come so close to losing it forever, that he realised how much he valued it.

But maybe, just maybe, when the war was finished and they could go back to their normal lives, Hermione would forgive him properly and he could tell her how much she meant to him. After all, what was a better reason to fight for than the possibility of a future with Hermione?

* * *

Staring at the red curtains at the end of her bed, Hermione sighed. Her aching body was filled with so many conflicting emotions that they cancelled each other out and in the end she felt oddly empty. The pain had faded but was still ever present and the memories of the past few hours felt like a shadow, smothering her. It didn't take the brightest witch of the age to realise that what had transpired at Malfoy Manor would stay with her until her dying day. In was with a stab of horror she realised how close that day had come to being the one that was currently drawing to a close.

It was for this reason that Hermione had taken the pillow from the head of the bed in the spare room and put it at the foot of it so that she was facing the window. One of the many thoughts that had struck her while Bellatrix was hurting her was that she couldn't remember the last time she had seen the sun rise. While Hermione had never particularly cared for sun rises, she was still determined to see the next one now that she had been given the opportunity. Every inch of that woman's crazed expression had told her with absolute certainty that she was going to die in that drawing room. Just before she had passed out, Hermione couldn't help but agree.

When she had woken up to the sound of Ron's panicked shouts, she felt like she had been given a second chance and she intended to grab it with both hands. All of those things she had thought about in the Malfoy drawing room, the people she would never again see, the words she could never speak, books that would be left unread, she had thought they would be lost along with her. She had so much left to contribute to the world; after all she was only eighteen. For a few horrifying moments it had all been over; she would become another faceless casualty of war, a name on a plaque, a statistic but now…

It was like being brought back from the dead.

Yes, she was in pain now but soon that would fade. Yes, all she could hear was Bellatrix's shrieked curses but they would eventually die out. Maybe one day she would go a whole twenty four hours without her remembering being tortured.

_Tortured._

She had been tortured. Even though Hermione had been there, had felt, seen and smelt it, it didn't seem real. Other people, people she didn't know the names of, were subjected to torture. It didn't actually happen to her. She just read about it in the _Daily Prophet _afterwards_._

Except it had happened to her. If it hadn't been for Harry's quick thinking she wouldn't be here in this bed now. If it wasn't for Ron's bravery she wouldn't be able to see the stars again. She wouldn't have been able to feel the wind in her hair, the ground under foot or the feel of his lips on her cheek.

Hermione shook her head and, smiling slightly, pulled the covers up higher. Yes, even after what was possibly the worst day of her life she went to bed thinking about Ron Weasley. If being brutally tortured (Hermione winced as her ribs throbbed with pain) couldn't drive that boy from her mind she doubted anything could.

Although, he isn't really boy any more, she thought, as Luna came in quietly and walked over to the airbed Fleur had set up for her. She couldn't pin point the moment it had happened but Ron had become a man. Maybe it had been today after he had watched Dobby's burial? Maybe it was when he had stood up for himself against his eldest brother? Or maybe it had been after dinner, when he had followed her from the table to the bathroom and sat, holding her on the tiled floor when she had eventually broke down in silent, painful tears from the exhaustion, agony and grief?

It didn't matter. All that mattered was that Ron had grown up and proved that Hermione really could trust him with her life. She was furious with herself for ever doubting him. It was like his seventeenth all over again. He had wronged her and she had been too stubborn to accept his apologies. Hermione hoped it wouldn't take one of them nearly dying to get them to make up every time they had an argument.

"So how long have you been together then?"

Hermione snapped out of her musings. She sharply turned her head and in the darkness and could just make out Luna's wide eyes gazing at her.

"Pardon?"

"How long have you been together?" repeated Luna in the same dreamy tone she always spoke in.

As with every conversation she had with Luna, Hermione felt she had missed something. "Together with who?"

"Ronald, of course."

Hermione gaped at Luna, who seemed unfazed by the reaction her words had caused.

"We- we're not together, Luna," she explained, trying to ignore her suddenly erratic heartbeat.

"Oh," she said, looking as close to confused as Hermione suspected Luna ever could. "It's just that you were acting like you were together today. I don't know why you would pretend like that."

Trying not to read too much into Luna's assumption, Hermione sighed. "Well, we're not together."

_Yet_, a small part of her couldn't help but think.

There was a few moments silence and Hermione closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come.

"You should be."

"Should be what, Luna," yawned Hermione, without opening her eyes.

"Together with Ronald."

Rolling onto her side so she wasn't facing Luna, Hermione tried not to think too hard about how the girl who believed in _Crumple-Horned Snorkacks _agreed with her on that point. In fact this was possibly the first time she and Luna had agreed on anything.

"Yes, well," she huffed, "we're not. Goodni-"

"I mean, you're always thinking about him," Luna continued as if Hermione hadn't spoken. "Like just now, when I came in."

"No, I wasn't," said Hermione automatically. It was more than a bit unnerving. How could Luna possibly know that?

"Sorry," replied Luna brightly. "It's just that you were wearing your 'Thinking about Ronald Weasley' expression."

"My- what?"

"You had that look on your face that you always have when you're thinking about him so I just assumed."

Hermione shifted so that she was on her back and frowned up at the ceiling. Did she really have a 'thinking about Ron' face? "Wait – to know what my expression is when I'm thinking about Ron you would have to know that I was thinking about him in the first place. You can't possibly know what I'm thinking so how do you know what my face looks like when I'm thinking about a specific thing?"

Luna sighed in what Hermione thought to be in a very patronising way.

"We are very similar, Hermione," said Luna.

Of all of Luna's crazy beliefs, Hermione thought, this one took the metaphoric biscuit.

"You see, we are both intelligent and love learning," Luna mused, "and we both have known what it's like to be excluded and left out by our peers."

Memories of eating lunch alone in her primary school canteen and crying in toilet cubicles came to the forefront of Hermione's mind. While much worse things had undoubtedly happened to her, the hurt of childhood bullying and rejection never seemed to truly fade.

"We are different because we deal with it in different ways," Luna continued, apparently oblivious to the delicate nature of the subject. "When you are ostracised, you bury your nose in a book and try and avoid thinking about being left out by absorbing as much knowledge as possible."

Stunned by the accuracy and bluntness of Luna's words, delivered in her usual faraway voice, Hermione turned to look and Luna and saw she was staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Whereas I prefer to learn from my surroundings. When I'm on my own, which happens a lot because I don't have many friends, especially in my own house, I observe people around me. Humans are fascinating creatures, you know," she added, turning to face Hermione. "I used to spend hours in the Great Hall or out by the Lake just watching how different people interact. Since my fourth year you and Ronald used to be two of my favourite people to watch."

Hermione let this sink in. While it didn't quite explain Luna's unsettling ability to read her mind without legillimency, it would explain how she would pick up on the tension between the two of them. Although it wasn't coming from the most credible source, it was nice to know a mutual observer thought the same as her. Maybe it wasn't all in her head?

"Why were we so fascinating?" Hermione asked curiously.

Luna seemed to ponder this for a bit before answering. "Well at first I thought you were quite boring-"

Sometimes Hermione wondered what actually went on in Luna's head. Most of the time she was far too scared to even contemplate it.

"- but Ronald was interesting. He was funny, popular, played Quidditch and was a prefect and yet he was very unsure of himself. I think that was why he could be rude and angry."

Against her better judgement, Hermione had waited with baited breath for some incredible insight into Ron's mind. Instead she had been told something she had known for years and was painfully obvious to someone as unobservant as, well, Ron.

"Then I realised that you were sometimes quite rude to each other despite the fact that you weren't normally rude to people. Well, except to me, when we first met."

Hermione squirmed. Did Luna ever actually listen to herself?

"It was like you both liked being rude to each other, like it was a game. I noticed at the DA meetings that you would always push him to try harder and be more confident while he would try to stop you from over working. You evened each other out.

"Then I started seeing the really interesting things. Like the way you take turns to look at each other when the other wasn't. Or how when you walked separately you each walked at a different pace but when together you walked at the same pace. Ronald subconsciously shielded you from view when groups of boys would walk past. At breakfast you would put pepper on some scrambled eggs and then pass it to him and he would take it without either of you looking at each other. It was obvious you were in love but were making a poor show of hiding it.

"Silly really," Luna said, turning to stare at Hermione. "Anyway last year was even more obvious. Before Christmas he would start kissing that girl every time you walked into the room and you only smiled when he was in the same room. After he was poisoned and you two started speaking again you became really boring to watch."

"How so?" she Hermione breathlessly. She was little annoyed at her love life being 'boring'. Personally she had found that time thrilling and tense but she knew Luna meant nothing by it.

"You weren't hiding it anymore. You were just like all the other couples so I stopped watching and concentrated on other people," Luna shrugged.

Hermione turned back to the ceiling, lost in thought. She always knew she and Ron were different but she had never really thought about them how Luna saw them; as a team working in tandem, complimenting and improving each other. It was such a sweet thought that Hermione could feel the start of tears building up in the corners of her eyes.

She wasn't proud of it but Hermione had always wondered why Luna had ended up in Ravenclaw. She just seemed too… _out there_ to be in the house of intelligence, logic and wit but now Hermione saw Luna was incredibly smart and especially perceptive. She was right, after all, about them being similar. They were just two sides of the same coin.

Of course Crumple-Horned Snorkacks were still nonsense but she had a new found respect for the girl lying on the floor beside her.

Intrigued by who had replaced her and Ron, Hermione propped herself up on her elbow and asked "So who _did _you concentrate on?"

"Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape," she replied serenely.

Hermione checked that she had heard right. Only Luna could say those two names in the same sentence in a tone of voice that suggested she was discussing pumpkin juice and scones (well, gurdy-root extract and gulping plimpies), not a murderer and his victim.

"Yes, they were always interesting to watch but last year at school it was quite gripping," Luna said conversationally.

I can imagine it was, thought Hermione, stunned. Seeing as one of them was planning on killing the other…

"You see, Professor Dumbledore seemed to trust Professor Snape more than any of the other teachers. He would always keep glancing at him if he was in a bad mood. Sometimes Snape would notice and they would nod at each other. Professor Snape was much more expressive though."

Hermione felt inclined to disagree. In the nearly seven years she had known Snape he only seemed to have four modes: vindictive, furious, sly and disdainful.

"Professor Snape was always very rude to people," Luna nodded. "Even people like Professors Flitwick and McGonagall he would be disrespectful to. He treated everyone with some level of contempt except Professor Dumbledore.

"I thought it might have been because he was a little scared of him and then I realised it was because he respected him. Professor Dumbledore was like a father figure to him. Last year when Professor Dumbledore hurt his hand, Professor Snape would keep giving him concerned looks and throughout the year he became even more sullen than usual when he was on his own. I think he was worried about him. Even when he seemed angry with Professor Dumbledore he never showed it because he respected him too much."

While she found she didn't doubt Luna, Hermione couldn't help but state the obvious hole in her theory.

"Snape _killed _Professor Dumbledore, Luna," she said delicately, remembering what Luna had said about her being rude to her.

Luna frowned slightly. "I know. That's what I don't understand."

Confused, Hermione rolled back over and tried to get some sleep. Twenty four hours ago she had been in tent with Ron and Harry and now she was sharing a room with Luna Lovegood and in a proper bed for the first time in seven and a half months. Harry had forgotten about the hallows. Ron had kissed her cheek. She would be having a proper cooked meal tomorrow.

If only she could focus on these things and not dead friends, malicious black eyes, ragged breath on the back of her neck and breaking into one of the most impenetrable fortresses in the wizarding world then maybe she could have gotten some sleep that night. As it was, she woke several times in the night, drenched in a cold sweat and wondering if she would've been able to sleep better in Ron's arms.

* * *

Downing the rest of his goblet of wine, Ron looked happily around the small kitchen. While a lot of his family and friends were missing from the celebrations, he had enough of his loved ones gathered in the room to make him temporarily forget the war raging outside. The past few weeks at Shell Cottage had been the highlight of his year so far. While he detested being in the same room as Griphook and he thought their plans to break into Gringotts were becoming more mental by the day, he had a warm bed, regular food and constant news that the rest of his family were all right.

Ron leant back on the kitchen counter and frowned slightly when he realised that someone was missing. He checked again but no, Hermione definitely wasn't there. Maybe it was the wine he had consumed, maybe it was that it felt weird not to share this happy moment with her but he suddenly really wanted to talk to her. He noticed the back door was ajar so he set his goblet down and went to investigate.

When he stepped out into the garden he immediately found what he was looking for. Hermione had her back to him and was leaning against the stone wall that faced out towards the sea. The starry night sky was cloudless and the half-moon shone brightly down on them, illuminating everything in a ghostly light. The breeze coming from the sea was cool but the air on the south coast was warm and Ron couldn't help but smile. It was like something from a dream.

Ron walked forwards and joined Hermione leaning on the wall. She looked up to him and smiled warmly.

"Hey."

"Hey."

They watched the waves lap the rocks at the bottom the cliff for a few moments before one of them broke the silence.

"What brings you out here then?" Ron asked.

"I just fancied some air," Hermione replied, shrugging her shoulders.

"Nothing to do with you being a little tipsy then?" he teased.

Hermione gasped in mock offense. "Ron Weasley, how dare you?"

Ron gave her a disbelieving look before she threw her head back and started laughing. The wind blew her hair off her neck so he could see the cut left by Bellatrix's knife and he felt nauseous. It had only been a few weeks ago but she was coping with it amazingly well in Ron's opinion. While there had been a few days when he sure she hadn't slept the night before, she was otherwise the same old Hermione. He couldn't help but marvel at her strength. How was it after all these years she could still surprise him?

"Ok," she admitted, running a hand through her hair, "it _might _have something to do with that."

Ron shook his head and looked out onto the sea again. He took a deep breath and smiled lazily.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Hermione whispered almost to herself.

He looked at her watching the waves and spoke without thinking.

"Yeah, it is," he murmured, eyes still on her.

Hermione turned away from the sea and they stood just staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. '_Just kiss her!_' screamed a voice inside his head but something stopped him. He knew when he walked out on her that he had very nearly destroyed their friendship forever. Somehow she had managed to forgive him and Ron was not about to push her limits like that again. He now knew that she had liked him, maybe even loved him, but he had messed up too many times for him to expect her to still feel the same way. It would take time for those wounds to heal but, like he had told her, Ron was more than prepared to wait.

Hermione suddenly cleared her throat and the moment passed. They both looked straight ahead again.

From inside the cottage they could hear Lupin trying once again to leave but being forced to have another goblet of wine by what sounded like Bill.

"It's nice to see him so happy," said Ron when the sound of the wind masked the noise of the celebration once more.

"I know, it makes a nice change," smiled Hermione. "I can't wait to meet Teddy."

"Hopefully Lupin or Tonks will be able to bring him round one day," added Ron. He suddenly remembered that they weren't planning on staying at the cottage much longer so the chances of either of them seeing him would be remote. He had the feeling Hermione had realised this too but was happy that she didn't mention it. The night had them both so content that it was better if these worries remained unspoken.

"It's nice that they've named him for Tonk's father," said Hermione hastily.

"Yeah," agreed Ron. "It's tradition though, isn't it?"

Hermione looked at him thoughtfully.

"I've noticed that. It happens with Muggles as well but wizards seem to name nearly all new-borns after someone else," she pondered. "Apart from your family," she added as an afterthought.

"The Weasleys tend to make it more subtle, like Fred and George have the same initials has my uncles, Fabien and Gideon. Most of the time we just stick to middle names though," Ron explained. "And as a pure-blood that's definitely something to be grateful for. I can't really see myself as a Bilius."

Hermione chuckled.

"No, I see what you mean," she chortled. "So you have no problems with Ronald then?"

Ron wrinkled his nose and turned around so he was leaning with his back against the wall.

"Let's just say there's a reason that it's Ron," he answered in an undertone. "Have you never considered a nickname? 'Mione? Hermy maybe?"

Hermione looked at him reproachfully.

"The only person who calls me _Hermy _is Grawp and you're the only one who has ever called me 'Mione, and that's only when you're talking with your mouth full. If that's the calibre of person who uses nicknames then there is _definitely _a reason that it is _Hermione,_" she replied. She glared at him superiorly but the effect was ruined when the corners of her mouth started twitching.

"Point taken," he conceded smiling. "So where did _Hermione_ come from then?"

Hermione gave him a sceptical look like she was trying to see if he was making fun but then pursed her lips as if she was trying to remember.

"I'm not sure…" she pondered. "I think my mum chose it because she wanted me to have an uncommon name and my dad probably liked it because it made him seem intelligent."

She started laughing to herself. "I can just imagine him at dinner parties saying things like 'Oh yes that's my daughter, _Hermione_'," she said, putting on a deep voice. "'Yes, she goes to Cambridge you know…'"

Ron couldn't help but laugh at Hermione's impression of her father. These days it was rare to see her stop worrying and just let go and enjoy herself. It was even rarer for her to mention her parents. She seemed to realise she had started talking about them and looked sadly back out towards the horizon.

"They'll be fine," said Ron softly, though he knew no such thing. "We'll find them again."

She seemed to take comfort from his words and leaned in towards him. Ron turned around again so he could put an arm around her shoulders. Her breaths sounded shallow like she was trying to stop herself crying and Ron started rubbing his thumb against her arm. They stood like this for a while before Hermione stood up straight and Ron removed his arm. He glanced down at her and saw that while her face was oddly blank, her eyes were dry. Once again Ron found himself in awe of the girl stood next to him.

Suddenly Hermione started laughing softly and bowed her head. Ron failed to see what was so funny and stared at her, unsure of what to do. Eventually Hermione lifted her head up again and started laughing harder.

"What?" queried Ron, utterly bemused.

"Did I ever tell you," she said still chortling, "what my parents wanted to name me if I were a boy?"

Ron frowned trying to remember but he couldn't so he shook his head. Hermione leaned forward.

"_Hugo,_"she giggled and leant on the wall for support.

He looked at her for a moment while he considered this.

"I like the name Hugo," he said, scratching his chin.

Hermione snorted.

"What?" said Ron defensively. "It sounds macho, like a warrior or- or-"

"A circus performer?" offered Hermione.

Ron playfully nudged her with his elbow. "You really don't like Hugo?" he said, raising his eyebrows.

Hermione sighed and looked up at the moon before she replied. "I guess it's not too bad," she said slowly. "What was your name going to be if you were a girl?"

"Ginevra Molly Weasley."

"Sounds familiar."

"Yeah," chuckled Ron. "Mum sat on that one for a while, through six pregnancies in fact. Not that Ginny appreciates her patience, mind." Hermione looked at him, confused, so he added "There is _definitely _a reason that it's Ginny."

They both laughed again. Ron loved spending time with just him and Hermione. It had become a rare occurrence of late and he couldn't remember the last time they had been so relaxed. For the best part of a year it seemed that every time they were alone together he was annoyed with Harry's lack of progress with the horcruxes, Hermione was angry with his obsession with the hallows or they were discussing breaking into a magical institution. It was refreshing for it to be him and Hermione just being, well, Ron and Hermione.

"So what girls name do you like?" Hermione asked, smiling sleepily at Ron.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you had to pick a name for a girl what would it be?" she reiterated.

Ron hesitated. He knew exactly what name he would pick. He had always pictured himself one day having a daughter; he guessed it was from his elder brotherly feelings towards Ginny. He just liked the idea of protecting her from all the horrors in the world and spoiling her rotten if he could. But for some reason he didn't want to share these thoughts with Hermione. She knew him better than pretty much anyone else, except for maybe Harry, but telling her this felt like he was crossing some invisible line.

"Erm… I don't know. Never really thought about it," he mumbled, unable to meet her eyes.

"Oh. Right."

Hermione looked slightly put out and turned to face the sea again. Although nothing too drastic had happened the atmosphere of the conversation had changed dramatically. Suddenly the night air was cold against their skin and instead of feeling completely at ease, Ron felt uncomfortable and awkward.

"I- I'm going to head back in," Ron said when he couldn't take the silence anymore.

"Ok," Hermione replied, giving him a small smile. "I just want to stay out here a few more minutes."

Ron nodded and walked back towards the cottage. Halfway across the garden he stopped and turned around. Hermione was stood as she was when he had first found her here, a silhouette on the picturesque landscape. The way the moonlight shone on her brown hair made it glisten and when the wind blew it seemed to shimmer. Ron couldn't think of anything he had ever seen that compared to the beauty of the scene in front of him.

"Rose."

Hermione span round at the sound of his voice, clearly surprised that he hadn't already gone inside.

"Sorry?"

Ron took a deep breath before he continued. He suspected the alcohol was influencing his decision to tell her this but right now it didn't seem to matter.

"Well, if we ever get out of this bloody mess we're in-" He realised the possible connotations of the pronoun he had used and hastily added, "-a-and I find someone mental enough to have kids with me…"

He smiled slightly at Hermione who was regarding him with a curious expression on her face.

"… then I've always sort of wanted a daughter called Rose," he finished sheepishly, shrugging and burying his hands deep in his pockets.

Hermione furrowed her brow, looking pensive.

"Rose?"

"Yep."

"Rose Weasley?"

Ron nodded.

Hermione paused again.

"That's a lovely name, Ron."

They shared a brief smile before Ron started backing slowly away towards the cottage.

"'Night, Hermione."

"Goodnight, Ron."


	16. The Final Battle Part One

_A/N: Last chapter this story reached 100 reviews, something I never even dreamed of, so THANK YOU to every single person who has ever reviewed this. All of you - from the people who leave a quick comment to those who write monster reviews. THANK YOU!_

_Special thank you to **jac32oz **for penning review number 100. I'm not sure what makes it special but it's the thought that counts, right?_

_A/N 2: This and the next chapter were originally together but I had the totally original idea of splitting something DH related into two parts. Where do I get my ideas from?_

_The reason for the spilt? The first draft of this scene was terrible and I seriously considered skipping it altogether because I just couldn't find an original angle. I then realised that I couldn't because this is basically the hour leading up to the kiss which is when I decided to write it as just that – not Ron and Hermione go to the Chamber of Secrets but the hour leading up to the moment Hermione thinks "To hell with this" and throws herself at Ron._

_What I ended up with was over 8,000 words of Ron and Hermione's Excellent Adventure and it seemed cruel to subject you all to a double sized chapter and I just couldn't bring myself to edit any of the sections out. Apologies for the lack of Ron POV and convenient places to stop and have a break mid-chapter._

_Anyway, here endeth the mammoth A/N. To the basilisk!_

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I'm running out of funny ways of ending this sentence._

* * *

**The Final Battle – Part One**

(_No More Secrets_)

Hermione watched as Harry followed Luna out of the door and immediately turned to Ron.

"What are we supposed to do now?" she whispered urgently. "Even if he finds the other _thing, _we can't destroy it! Griphook took the sword!"

"Surely we can think of something." Ron furrowed his brow in thought. Hermione bit her lip and tried to think of a solution as well when she heard someone cough behind her.

"Excuse me? Seconds in command?" called Fred from the back of the room.

"What?" answered Ron sharply.

Hermione turned around to see that everyone in the Room of Requirement was staring at her and Ron expectantly; everyone except for Cho and Ginny that is, who were glaring at each other.

"Well, now that our only hope just walked out, we sort of expected you two to take charge," shrugged Fred.

"Yeah, so if you've got any plans let us know, won't you?" said George. "I'm half-ears," he added with a wink.

Hermione glanced at Ron and was pleased to see he looked as uncomfortable as she felt.

"Well, we haven't really got a plan," Ron said to the room at large. "We just need to find that thing and then we're off again."

There was a murmur of dissent from the crowd gathered in front of them and Hermione was tempted to take a step back.

"Come on, Ron, there must be something," Neville said to general applause. "We're happy to fight."

"No one is fighting," stated Hermione, her voice sounding a little higher than she would've liked it to. Public speaking always did this to her. "We really are just going to wait for Harry to-"

"We just want to help you, Ron," interrupted a voice that Hermione was in no mood to hear right now, especially when it was addressing Ron.

Hermione saw Ron give her a nervous glance before replying. "_We_ appreciate that, Lavender." Hermione tried and failed to suppress a smirk at his refusal to have her removed from the conversation. "But there is really nothing to do."

Lavender pouted at him and then shot daggers at Hermione, who shuffled closer to Ron. There were more important things going on, but Hermione wasn't about to let them distract her from keeping that hussy away from Ron.

She had decided that if they had all got out of Gringotts alive then she was finally going to tell Ron how she felt. They had barely spent five minutes alone at Shell Cottage and Hermione knew if anything happened before they had the cup then they would be too distracted. The trip to Hogwarts was an unfortunate detour. After they had got out of this mess she would definitely tell him and, in the mean time, she would keep his ex as far away from him as possible.

When Lavender continued batting her eyelashes at Ron, Hermione began to wonder how many more 'detours' they would have to take before she could speak to him.

"We can't all just stand here," Lavender huffed. Hermione narrowed her eyes. Was she actually pushing her chest out? Even if she was, Ron didn't notice. He was now staring into space, his brow knitted in concentration.

"Well, you can and you will," said Hermione with as much politeness as she could muster. She put her hand on Ron's arm and looked up at him in the hope of some kind of back up, but he was still lost in thought. He was now wearing what Hermione recognised as Ron's 'Chess Face'. Seeing this normally meant impending doom for his opposition. She hoped this was one of these times.

"We've all spent all year fighting so I don't know why you're keeping us out of the loop," growled Lavender, her hands now on her hips. "You come here with all of your secrets and we're trying-"

"What?" Ron blurted out and turned to Lavender. As he moved, Hermione's hand fell away and she felt herself start blushing. Blatant rejection, no matter how small, in front of a large crowd always hurt.

Lavender's expression softened with Ron's attention on her. "I was just saying that there's no need for secrets-"

"That's it!" breathed Ron, his face unreadable and his gaze went back to being far off into the distance.

"What is it?" asked Neville, looking as confused as Hermione felt.

"It'll still be there… It's not like Filch cleans up down there… It'll be full off it still… We could even take some with us…" Ron muttered to no one in particular.

"Anytime you want to finish a sentence, Ron," snapped Hermione, growing impatient.

Ron paid no notice to her.

"Lavender, you're a genius!" Ron suddenly yelled, his face splitting into a wide smile. Hermione's jaw hit the floor as she watched him run up to his old girlfriend and pull her into a bear hug. Lavender looked bewildered at first, but then unbearably smug as Ron picked her up and span around.

Hermione knew her face was scarlet and her fists were clenched but she didn't care. Ron always called _her _a genius. If he didn't let go of her in the next five seconds, Hermione was going to jinx them both.

"It was nothing really-" Lavender began but stopped as soon as Ron unceremoniously dropped her and bounded back over to Hermione. She glared at him reproachfully.

"Hermione! We need to go to the bathroom," he announced.

She stared up at him, her arms folded. "Surely you're old enough to go by yourself," she replied scathingly.

Ron looked confused for a split second before he started laughing. "No, no _think about it,_" he pleaded, gripping her upper arms. "We need to go to the _bathroom._" He raised his eyebrows to show he was hinting at something.

Hermione stared into his blue eyes that were flashing with triumph. He had obviously worked something out; either that or he had gone insane. Hermione tried, but for the life of her she couldn't think how going to the bathroom together solved anything.

"Ron, I really don't follow you."

Ron grunted with frustration, grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards to exit. It suddenly didn't matter where they were heading; Ron was holding her hand.

"Hey, wait a minute," she heard Fred call after them. "There's a time and place for that!"

"I mean, at least ask her permission first, Ron," added George. "It shows good manners after all."

"Taking her somewhere with a bed is also recommended," grinned Fred.

Ron stopped without warning by the door and Hermione walked into the back of him. "What?" he asked them, looking as though had only just realised they were speaking.

In response Fred and George waggled their eyebrows and shot pointed glances at Hermione, who started blushing. Ron didn't cotton on until they started making rude hand gestures.

"Oh, that's-" exclaimed Ron, his ears starting to flame up. He stuck his middle finger up at the twins and then pulled Hermione through the door.

Still holding his hand, Hermione followed Ron as he tore up the stairs. When they got to the top, Ron stopped and turned to face Hermione. "We need brooms."

Hermione was seriously starting to worry about him. She wouldn't put it past him to want to play a quick game of Quidditch at a time like this. "Ron, what on Earth are you planning?"

Ron was once again too busy thinking to reply. Hermione was growing increasingly frustrated.

"Ron!"

"Let me think," he muttered before he shook his head, slowly opened the door and poked his head around it. "I think this is the fourth floor," he whispered. "Yeah, there's that landscape painting."

Hermione began to wonder if Ron and Harry got this annoyed with her when they didn't know what was going on. "Ron, what are we-"

"Give me a minute."

Ron opened the door and pulled her outside. They jogged silently down the corridor until they reached a corner, where they stopped and backed up against the wall while Ron checked that the cost was clear. Hermione took the opportunity to inspect the corridor.

Even though the castle was dark she could tell it had changed. There were fewer portraits and the ones that remained were watching her and Ron with some fascination. On the wall opposite she could see evidence of the DA's graffiti, but it had been scrubbed too much for her to be able to read the slogan in the dim light. Ron tugged her arm lightly to indicate that they should move.

"Where are we-" she began to inquire, but Ron cut her off a third time.

"Hermione, do you trust me?" Ron asked, suddenly turning around to face her.

He was asking her to wander around a castle, filled with people who were aware she was there somewhere and were trying to kill her, without knowing what they were doing or why they were doing it. There was only one answer and she gave it without hesitation.

"Of course."

Shock flitted across his features briefly before it was replaced with a relief and joy so powerful that Hermione felt her knees wobble. They were standing so close and no one else was around. Voldemort was surely on his way… If now wasn't the time to kiss him, then when was?

A thrill ran through her as Ron licked his bottom lip subconsciously and Hermione dropped her gaze to it. She swore she could hear her own heartbeat.

Unfortunately, that wasn't all she could hear. A grumbling voice and the soft purring of a cat were growing louder from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Filch!"

Ron pulled Hermione into the supply cupboard they were thankfully standing next to and silently closed the door. The only light in the cupboard came from small window near the ceiling. The two of them were surrounded by mops and were trying to control their heavy breathing. Ron was a pale shade of grey and she noticed the hand she wasn't holding was visibly shaking. If Filch caught them, they were as good as Voldemort's.

"Sniff around, my sweet," they heard Filch wheeze directly outside the door. "Potter could be anywhere." An angry hiss told them that Mrs Norris was at his heels.

"Can you smell something?" The excitement in his voice made Hermione nearly sick with fear. They did have one major advantage though – magic. If Filch found them they could quickly stun him and his hideous cat and hide the evidence. How long would their absence go unnoticed?

"Is that someone coming?" Filch asked again. Hermione closed her eyes and swallowed a lump of bile; there were indeed swift footsteps heading their way.

"It is only I, Filch."

Hermione's sharp intake of breath might've been heard outside if it weren't for Ron covering her mouth quickly with his large hand. Her eyes flew open and she saw that Ron now looked nearly faint.

Snape, Death Eater, Headmaster and murderer, was directly outside, separated from them by a few inches of wood. Hermione squeezed Ron's hand and he squeezed back. She hoped this wasn't how they were going to say goodbye to each other.

"Headmaster," Hermione heard Filch exclaim. "I haven't been able to find Potter yet."

"That much is clear," came Snape's silky reply. "Have you searched near Gryffindor Tower?"

"Not yet, Headmaster. Professor Carrow told me to-"

"Neither of the Carrows are the Head of this school," Snape interrupted with a bite of impatience. Hearing Snape lording his illegally attained position over other people, even if it was Filch, had Hermione quivering with a new emotion: anger.

"Search Gryffindor Tower and the surrounding area," commanded Snape. "I doubt even Potter would be as imbecilic as to even go near the place, but his lack of intelligence has always found new ways to astound me."

Filch's scratchy chuckle could be heard from inside of the cupboard and Hermione felt Ron tense. "Of course, Headmaster. I'll go now."

"One more thing, Filch." Snape's voice was suddenly low and dangerous. The staff were clearly ruled by the same iron fist as the students if he was able to threaten Filch like this. "If you find Potter, Weasley, Granger, Longbottom or any of the other missing students, bring them _directly _to me, not the Carrows."

_So Snape wanted to steal the glory of finding them to himself_, thought Hermione with a scowl. Clearly there was no honour amongst Death Eaters.

"Right you are, Headmaster. I don't know where Amycus is, but I think I saw Alecto heading to Ravenclaw Tower so I shouldn't come across her," Filch replied.

"Ravenclaw?"

"Yes, Headmaster."

Hermione heard Snape swear under his breath.

"Is there a problem, He-"

"Get to Gryffindor Tower now, Filch," snapped Snape. "Remember – bring Potter and his friends _to me. _I'll be in Ravenclaw Tower."

"Wouldn't it be easier to take them to your study, Headmaster?"

"No, I have changed the password for security purposes."

"Yeah, but they're usually fairly easy to guess. All year it's been some variation of… your master's…name."

Hermione heard Filch stump quickly away and Mrs Norris hiss at Snape. She waited, hardly daring to breath, to hear Snape's footsteps follow them.

"In a manner of speaking it still is," she heard Snape mutter bitterly before the undeniable swish of his black robes and his hurried footsteps.

It wasn't until they finally faded into silence that Ron slowly removed his hand from Hermione's face.

"He's gone after Harry," Ron whispered hoarsely. "Snape and one those Carrows!"

"I know, but he should be okay," Hermione replied, searching for reasons to back up her words. If the sadistic Carrows and Filch, who knew Hogwarts better than possibly even the Weasley twins, were helping Snape in his search of the castle, then their chances of being detected were very high.

"Okay? Okay?" choked Ron. "Snape won't hesitate to hand Harry or Luna over and you heard what the Carrows are like!"

Knowing full well that Ron was planning to go and rescue or warn Harry, Hermione grabbed his arm and shook it slightly.

"Ron, we are in just as much danger as Harry is right now. More even! They have the Invisibility Cloak and the map! They'll be fine!"

"But what if-"

"You want to go looking for a common room that you don't know the location of, to try and save two people who have everything they need to hide? Do you know how dangerous and pointless that is?" she hissed. She hated the idea of leaving Harry, but she was right. If anybody needed help right now, it was the two people squashed into a cupboard on the fourth floor.

Ron glared at her for a moment, his jaw clenched. It was in Ron's nature to save his friend, but the look on his face told Hermione that he recognised the truth in her words.

"He'd save us," Ron muttered.

Hermione sighed. "I know. But let's not put ourselves in a position where we need saving when it isn't necessary."

Her words did nothing but make him punch the wall of the cupboard in frustration.

"I know," she said, with a quiver in her voice; the thought of Harry trying to control his temper and thirst for vengeance if he saw his old Potions Master on the Marauder's Map was not a comfortable one. "Let's just stick to your plan. Whatever it is," she added with a weak smile.

"No point," mumbled Ron, clearly still frustrated. "It's useless without a broom."

Hermione pressed her ear to the door of the cupboard. When she was fairly certain that no one was approaching, she cautiously stepped outside and Ron followed.

"While Harry may have given you his 'saving people' complex," Hermione said to Ron, pulling out her wand, "I inherited something else."

"What?" questioned Ron, nonplussed.

"This," she answered, raising her wand. "_Accio broom_!"

Hermione waited breathlessly for a full ten seconds before there was a smashing sound to her right and she spun around just in time to see a broom come crashing through a window to rest at waist height next to her.

"Oh no," she moaned. "I broke a window!"

"Forget about that," dismissed Ron, a huge grin spreading across his face. "Hermione, you're a genius!"

"I thought Lavender was the genius?"

The bitter words left her before she had time to realise she had even thought them. Still, she stared resolutely into Ron's face as the corners of his mouth drooped.

"I didn't- I meant-" he stammered. Ron looked at his trainers and sighed before looking back at Hermione to answer her.

"I didn't mean it," he said seriously. "When I said it to Lavender, I mean. I never meant any of it."

Hermione swallowed. There was no doubting his sincerity. Hermione had serious questions about what Ron had meant by 'any of it', but now was definitely not the time to ask them.

"So erm…" she coughed, breaking the moment. "Where now? If you say the Quidditch pitch, I swear I'll force feed you to the Giant Squid."

Ron laughed, grabbed the broom and started jogging towards the tapestry that hid the passageway to the second floor. "No, I've got somewhere much less out in the open in mind."

"Where?" she asked, ducking behind the tapestry after him.

"The Chamber of Secrets," he replied, flashing her a cheeky smile.

"The Chamber- _what_?"

"The Chamber of Secrets," he repeated as he ran down the staircase.

While Hermione thought the Chamber would be a very interesting place to visit sometime, she couldn't see why they had to go right now.

"I don't understand."

"I've actually out done Hermione Granger," she heard him mutter disbelievingly. "Think about it, Hermione!"

She was, she really was, but Ron still seemed to have taken one too many Bludgers to the head.

"Okay, how do you destroy a horcrux?" Ron asked as they approached the bottom of the stairs.

"Break it beyond all magical repair," she answered instantly.

"And what have we been using?"

"The sword of Gryffindor." They paused at the bottom while Ron stuck his head out of the exit that was pretending to be a brick wall.

"And why is that?" he whispered, turning to face her with anticipation gleaming in his eyes.

"It's impregnated with Basilisk venom and the venom destroys horcruxes," Hermione whispered as they snuck out of the passageway and headed away from the marble staircase. "But we don't have the sword anymore."

"No." Ron stopped by a door and turned to her with a huge smile on his face. "So we're going directly to the source."

"Directly to the-"

Hermione's hung her mouth open in shock as she realised they were standing outside a girls' bathroom and not just any girls' bathroom; This was the lesser frequented bathroom that was the home of Moaning Myrtle, also known by a select few as the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, where a decaying millennium old basilisk lay.

"Ron," she whispered, awestruck, "that's – that's brilliant! That's honestly amazing!"

Ron somehow looked even more pleased with himself. "I know!"

Deciding to overlook Ron's lack of humility and to let him have his moment, Hermione dealt with more pressing matters. Like them being stood out in the open with Ron, who was showing no signs of entering the bathroom.

"Why aren't you going in and don't play the 'it's a _girls _bathroom' card-"

"Myrtle's in there," he replied hoarsely. "I can hear her wailing."

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm sure she won't rat you out. Go in and get rid of her."

"Me?" Ron squawked. "Why me?"

"She hates me and she's always flirting with you," Hermione snapped.

Ron gawped at her. "Myrtle flirts with me?"

Almost breaking her eye socket in the effort of trying to refrain from rolling her eyes, Hermione replied waspishly. "No, Ron. She just sneaks in on you having a bath and steals your clothes because she is highly interested in the male form."

"I told you never to mention that again!" hissed Ron, blushing.

"Go in there and get her out!"

"How?"

"I don't know," whispered Hermione frantically. Being left out in the corridor made her uneasy. There was definitely a new chilling atmosphere at Hogwarts. "Be charming?"

"I can't be charming!" Ron moaned, aghast.

_If only he knew_, Hermione thought, shoving him towards the door.

After a short but silent battle of wills and stern looks, Ron eventually slipped inside the girls' toilet while Hermione hid herself behind a suit of armour and waited. A few minutes later the door cracked open and Ron beckoned her inside.

"How did you get rid of her?" asked Hermione, looking around the miserable, but thankfully unoccupied, room.

Ron gulped and readjusted his robes. "It's not important."

Dragging her mind away from images of how Ron persuaded Myrtle to leave, Hermione watched Ron as he approached one of the sinks lined up against the walls and started to inspect the copper tap.

"This is it," he muttered, fingering a small carving Hermione couldn't quite see.

"The entrance?"

Ron nodded.

"But don't you need to – to speak parseltongue to open it?" Hermione really didn't want to burst his bubble, but there didn't seem to be any way around it. Maybe if they went back the Room of Requirement they could wait for Harry and come back later?

Before she could suggest it however, Ron took a steadying breath, closed his eyes and started hissing and spitting. He cracked his eyes open a fraction and saw nothing had happened.

"Ron, you can't just guess-" Hermione started.

"I'm not guessing," he said quickly. "I'm trying to copy how Harry did it when he opened the locket."

Hermione took a couple of steps back and watched in bewilderment as he unsuccessfully attempted to open the Chamber again. After a few more variations, the Chamber remained closed and Hermione saw Ron's shoulders slump. Knowing from his Quidditch games that this was never a good sign, she moved forward a placed a comforting hand on his arm.

"I can't-"

"Yes, you can," Hermione cut in forcefully.

Ron half-glanced at her. "Don't suppose you've got any Felix Felicis in that bag, have you?" he chuckled.

"No," she admitted. "But I could pretend if that would help?"

Looking back now, it had been such a silly thing to fall out over. Why was it that less than a year and a half ago the result of a Quidditch match had seemed so important? Ron gave her a searching look as if trying to work out if she was still angry and Hermione found she wasn't so she gave him a small smile. They had come so far since then. What was a bit of spilt potion between friends anyway?

"You can do it if you think you can," Hermione said softly.

Ron nodded and carried on with his efforts to break into the Chamber. Four tries later, the sink sank low into the wall and Hermione had to swallow a cry of shock at the sight of a large black tunnel in front of her.

"You did it," murmured Hermione weakly.

"Again with that tone of surprise," Ron said shaking his head, although even he looked shocked at his achievement.

"But you heard Harry say it months ago. How can you still remember?" Hermione asked as she slowly approached the tunnel. It looked as though it could go on forever.

Ron shifted slightly on his feet and coughed. "It was a hard day to forget," he muttered darkly.

There was definitely more to the destruction of the locket that the boys weren't telling her about.

"Anyway," said Ron in an almost jovial voice, "ladies first." He gestured to the tunnel and Hermione gave him a glare that the basilisk would be proud of. Instead of dropping dead, Ron broke into a wide grin and sat down at the edge of the pipe. "It's a bit bumpy, but it's not too bad. Just tuck your elbows in. See you down there." He gave her one last smile and he was gone.

Hermione waited until she could no longer hear his long body sliding down the pipe and gently hitting the bends before she positioned herself at the entrance.

"So now he's bilingual on top of everything else," said under her breath before joining him in the descent.

Although she had prepared herself for an uncomfortable journey, Hermione was glad when she realised it was just like the slides she used to play on when she was a small child, just with the added scenery of various other smaller pipes twisting around hers. Just as she was beginning to feel a little sick, the pipe levelled out, Hermione braced herself for a hard landing and closed her eyes as she shot out of the end.

When she did land, it wasn't on hard stone like she had anticipated, but rather soft. Opening her eyes and sitting up, she saw that she appeared to be floating about six inches off the ground.

"Cushioning Charm?" she asked Ron as he offered her a hand up.

"Thought you might not want to land on rat skeletons," he grinned sheepishly. Hermione glanced at the floor. Now that her eyes were more adjusted to the darkness, she could see what Ron was talking about.

"No, I wouldn't," she said, letting go of his hand. "Thanks."

Ron started leading the way down the tunnel and Hermione wondered how many times they were going to smile shyly at each other before she eventually gave in and kissed him. Resisting this urge was growing harder by the minute, but Hermione knew there was a proper time and place for such things. Plus there were a lot of things to discuss, like how it would change their friendship? And how it would affect the horcrux hunt? As well as the burning issue of whether Ron even liked her like that or if she had just twisted reality until it fitted her perfect little daydream. Recently though the reality hadn't needed much twisting…

"This place looks smaller than I remember." Ron's voice echoed off the damp tunnel.

"Well, you were a lot smaller," reasoned Hermione as she avoided treading on a small pile of bones.

"Yeah, I 'spose," agreed Ron. He grimaced at the dank walls and kicked a small rock. "Old Salazar could've redecorated or something."

Hermione chuckled but didn't reply. For something to do she took Hufflepuff's cup out of her beaded bag and inspected it. When Ron saw what she was holding, he glowered at the horcrux as though it had just offended him. She ignored him and ran her fingers over the fading badger on the side.

There was a scratching noise up ahead of them and Hermione nearly dropped the cup as she raised her wand. The two of them stood stock still, tense and listening hard.

"Lumos," whispered Ron.

The wand light illuminated the far end of the tunnel and their eyes scanned the floor for a cause of the noise.

"It's just a rat," Ron said quietly as he extinguished his wand and continued walking.

"Can you remember how much further it is?" asked Hermione. "This place starting to get to me."

"It's a lot better knowing your little sister isn't dying at the end of it," Ron said grimly. "I don't think it's too much longer."

Hermione nodded and they carried on in silence. The only noises came from the water dripping off the walls or if one of them stood on something. There was something deeply unsettling about the greenish hue of the light and how Hermione could almost see the ghosts of the Chamber's past; Tom Riddle coming down here when he was younger than she was now to unleash a monster that would attack and even kill someone… Ginny Weasley, possessed and weak, walking down this tunnel alone to meet her doom… The basilisk itself sliding up the passageway before meeting two unsuspecting victims outside of the library…

A shiver went down her spine as Ron suddenly stopped at a large pile of rocks.

"Is this where-"

"Yep."

Hermione climbed over the rocks to a small gap near the middle of the pile.

"You fitted through that hole?" Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised. The Ron Weasley in front of her was six foot three and almost twice as wide as the hole in front of her. She couldn't imagine one of his feet getting through it.

"Well, no," he admitted, joining her. "Harry did. Reckon he still could," he added with a smile.

The mention of Harry reminded her of the danger he was currently in and the task in hand.

"How're we going to get through?" she fretted. "Neither of us is small enough."

"Just move some more of the rock," Ron shrugged. "It'll be easier than last time. My wand is in one piece and I'm not babysitting a brainless oaf."

"Thanks."

Using a combination of spells and charms, it took little over five minutes for them to create a hole that was big enough for even Ron to get through comfortably. When they got to the other side, Ron looked around. He had never been here and he seemed more nervous than before. Hermione placed Hufflepuff's cup in her robe's pocket and kept compulsively checking it was still there every few seconds, convinced that she was going to lose it.

"It's weird to think Harry saved Ginny all those years ago," said Hermione conversationally. "Look at them now."

She looked at Ron who was now scowling.

"There isn't a 'them'," he said tonelessly.

Hermione sighed. Ron was so predictably over protective, even now. "Face it, when all of this is over, there will be."

Ron's scowl became more pronounced. "Not if I can help it."

"You don't mean that," Hermione chided.

There was a short pause and Hermione knew he agreed with her. He had no real problem with Harry and Ginny, just how Harry had treated her. It was stupid to think that Ginny couldn't handle herself, but there was no use telling Ron.

"Maybe not, but still," Ron grumbled eventually, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Still, what?" Hermione snapped. "They're great together and I-I reckon they love each other, or at least could do one day. Why can't you see that?"

"So what?" Ron replied heatedly. "He hurt her."

"So? She's forgiven him." Hermione could feel anger bubbling up inside of her.

"He'll hurt her again," Ron said sharply.

"You can't know that," scoffed Hermione.

"He won't mean it," Ron half-shouted, "but it'll happen and she'll be in bits like last time!"

"What if she loves him so much that she doesn't care?" Hermione yelled back at him.

Ron stopped walking and turned to face her. "That's stupid," he spat.

"No," Hermione retorted in a quiet and dangerous voice. "Stupid is not trying just because you're scared it might go wrong!"

"What if he can't face messing it up again?"

"What if she can't face never knowing what could've been if he doesn't mess it up?"

"Well, maybe she should tell him that!"

"Well, maybe they should just stop playing these stupid games and just be together!"

"Exactly!"

Hermione and Ron glared at each other, breathing heavily. After a few seconds they were still looking at the other and Hermione searched her mind for a logical way to proceed, but struggled. This was partly because, for the first time in living memory, she and Ron had come to an agreement mid-argument, and partly because she was no longer sure who they were talking about.

"I think we're… um, here," coughed Ron awkwardly.

"What?"

Ron pointed to the right and Hermione saw a large circular door with emerald-eyed carved snakes on it.

"Liked his privacy, didn't he?" muttered Ron before he started to hiss and spit again.

Hermione was surprised and pleased to hear the lock click open and the door move to allow them entrance after Ron's first attempt.

"You're getting good at that," commented Hermione, as she climbed into the Chamber.

"I'm sure it'll come in handy in later life," Ron snorted.

Hermione smiled at him before making her way further into the Chamber and looking around. The large stone columns showed evidence of Harry's fight with the basilisk. Large chunks were missing and there were crumbling bits of stone scattered over the floor. Although they were clearly the only living things in the Chamber, Hermione could hear soft noises that seemed to come from the walls themselves, as though the Chamber itself was alive. They made their way further in and at the top she could make out a gigantic statue of what looked like a monkey with a large pile of bones at his feet.

Ron let out a low whistle as they approached the basilisk's skeleton. "That thing is huge! Harry was what? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"Twelve," breathed Hermione. The idea of facing a living version now was terrifying, but as a twelve year old… Hermione gulped. It just wasn't worth thinking about.

They stopped by the gigantic skull, filled with yellow fangs, and inspected it.

"Don't suppose your parents ever taught you an easy way of doing this," muttered Ron.

Hermione's stomach contracted like it always did when her parents were mentioned. "Not really."

Ron gingerly reached out and grabbed the singular fang at the front and pulled it sharply away from the skull. There was a sickening crack and Ron held the fang at arm's length.

"Your parents do this for a living?" he asked with a grimace.

"One day, Ron," Hermione said as she started to remove a second fang, "I will take you to a Muggle dentist and you'll see how different it really is to this."

"I can hardly wait," he mumbled as he chucked a third fang on the floor.

When most of the fangs had been removed, Ron picked one off the floor and handed it to her. "You haven't had the chance to destroy one yet so here."

Hermione stared at the fang and the whispering noise coming from the Chamber seemed to get louder.

"You're running out of chances, Hermione. I mean, there's only-"

"Can you hear that?" Hermione asked, cutting him off.

Ron looking around, his brow knotted. "Hear what?"

"That… that…" She tried to thing of the best way of describing it. "It's like a hissing noise."

"Well, I think we can rule out him," joked Ron, nudging the basilisk with his toe. "Where's it coming from?"

"Sort of… everywhere."

By the look Ron was giving her, she knew he was worried so she decided to move the conversation along and just ignore the noises. She took the cup out of her pocket and held her hand out to take the fang.

Ron hesitated to give it to her. "When I give you the fang, just stab it straight away," he said looking, very serious all of a sudden. "Don't listen to any of the crazy stuff it says. Just stab it."

Hermione's eyes snapped up from the fang to Ron's pale face. "What do you mean 'crazy stuff it says?'"

She saw Ron swallow. "Well, erm…"

"You said the locket just screamed," she pushed. She knew there was more to that story and now was not a good time for Ron to tell her.

"It-it did!" protested Ron, not meeting her eyes. "But the diary tried to kill Harry remember?"

Hermione gave him a sceptical look, but took the fang from him anyway. The sooner she destroyed the cup, then the sooner they could leave and those whispers were starting to scare her. They had definitely grown in intensity in the past few moments. It had got to the stage where she could make out that they were human voices.

"Just stab it," repeated Ron in a steady voice.

"I don't know if I can," Hermione whispered. What if it went wrong? Look what had happened when she Apparated them all away from the ministry; Ron had almost died because of her. What if something like that happened again?

"Of course you can." Ron sounded scared. He was expecting her to mess this up.

"No, really, Ron, I-I don't think I should."

"Hermione-"

_You're just going to fail._

"What?" shouted Hermione, spinning around to see who had spoken. It had been the smooth, deep voice of a man. "Who said that?"

"Hermione, no one said anything."

Hermione started backing away from Ron, who looked like he was going to be sick.

_You can't do it, Hermione Granger. You know you can't._

"Hermione, stab it now!"

"But the voice-"

"IGNORE THE VOICE!" roared Ron. "Kill it!"

Hermione spun around, but she still couldn't work out where the voice was coming from. It sounded as though it was right behind her, whispering in her ear. She looked down at the cup and the fang that she had gripped tightly in her hands and she knew the voice was telling the truth. Who was she to think that she could do this? She wasn't anybody important. She wasn't good at anything.

_You may have fooled everyone else into thinking that you're something, that you're someone special, Hermione Granger, but you can't fool yourself. _

"Hermione, give me the cup," commanded Ron. Hermione looked up to see that he was clearly terrified. He reached out to take it, but his hand hit a solid barrier.

"What the-"

Ron tried again to reach her, but the air around her seemed solid. He tried pushing and hitting it from different angles, but he couldn't come within two feet of Hermione.

"Stab it, please," he pleaded, looking visibly distressed.

_Why even try? You've done nothing but fail so far._

Hermione could feel herself shaking as a mist started to rise from the cup and twist to form a human shape.

"NOOOO!" Ron yelled and he desperately continued trying to break through the barrier using his wand, but Hermione couldn't hear him. She was far too enticed by the shape the mist was taking. It swirled violently until it solidified so that it looked like a spectral being. Hermione blinked and was horrified to see she was standing face to face with a ghostly vision of herself.

There were subtle changes she could make out, like her hair seemed wilder and her cheeks slightly rounded. Her eyes were the most startling change. Not only were they now smaller, so that it looked like she was squinting, but they were no longer hazel but a bright scarlet.

"_You tried to keep them safe and what happened?_" the ghostly Hermione taunted. "_You mangled one of their arms and the other became introverted and unhinged. Even now one of them is in grave danger and you have no idea where he is._"

She tried to look away, but she couldn't. The words were boring into her and were attaching themselves to her heart. Hermione wanted nothing more than to run away, but her feet were glued to the stone floor.

"_Not to mention your parents. You don't even know where they are. You could have saved Mad-Eye if you had just been paying attention. You could have saved Dumbledore if it were not for your arrogance. You could have saved Dobby if you were not so weak._"

Tears were building in her eyes threatening to fall, but Hermione couldn't raise her hands to wipe them away. Hearing her mistakes hurled at her from a mirror image was more than she could take. There must be some escape, she thought hopelessly. There must be a way to shut her up.

"_And you thought that he could ever love you in return?_" the cup-Hermione laughed, making her look even more hideous. "_You thought you could help the Chosen One?_"

Hermione sank to her knees, her eyes still locked with the red ones in front of her.

"_They're going to die and it will be entirely your fault,_" it hissed at her. "_You are going to fail them like you have failed everybody else!_"

Her own face was leering at her and Hermione knew the words were true. Although they had made it this far…

"_You are nothing but a stupid-_"

In fact, they had got out of more tight situations than she could remember…

"_-USELESS, SNOBBISH-_"

She remembered them escaping from the Lovegoods'. They had only just made it and it was all thanks to her.

"_-UPTIGHT, BORING-_"

Hermione could recall their words afterwards.

"_You're a genius, Hermione!_"

"_Yeah!_"

"_-UGLY FAILURE!_"

As the cup-Hermione threw her head back to laugh cruelly, Hermione raised the fang and at long last brought it down directly onto the badger on the cup. There was a shriek as the cup-Hermione exploded into smoke that whirled around Hermione and then finally faded.

Gasping for air, Hermione looked around and saw the cup lying, twisted on the floor next to her. She dropped the fang and looked up to see Ron eyeing her, concern and fear etched into his features.

Their eyes met, causing Hermione to break down in tears and curl up on the floor. Before she had taken her next gasp of a breath, Ron was beside her and had scooped her up into his arms. He was holding her tightly to his chest and she could feel him shaking.

"It wasn't real," he whispered into her hair. "None of it was real."

"I'm pathetic," choked Hermione into his neck, gripping him around the waist. She hated falling apart like this, especially in front of Ron. She felt so vulnerable, almost naked, but there was no way to stop herself. Her limbs ached like she had ran a marathon and they were trembling so much she was sure she wouldn't be able to walk.

"You are not pathetic," Ron growled forcefully.

"It was j-just a cup a-and I c-couldn't even-"

"It was Voldemort," he interrupted, "and you beat him."

Hermione sniffed and considered this. In a way, it was true. It was like the emotional trauma of wearing the locket but intensified. All of her deepest fears, all of her biggest regrets, even the ones she knew she couldn't change, had been hurled at her and she had overcome them.

"Could you- could you hear-" Hermione began.

"No, I could only see you and that mist stuff and then that really ugly version of you," Ron whispered.

Trying not to read too much into Ron's last comment, Hermione focussed on how relieved she was that her darkest secrets were being kept that way. Although, thought Hermione as Ron slowly rubbed her back, what was the harm in telling him? After all, he had seen her at her worst.

"She told me that I had failed you and Harry and my parents," she murmured. "She told me that all these people would still be alive if I hadn't messed up."

"That's rubbish," said Ron soothingly. "You're amazing. You know that, right?"

Hermione gave Ron a quick squeeze. "Sometimes."

They sat there for a few moments in silence. Ron was stroking Hermione's hair while she traced circles on his back. Their position on the cold floor was giving Hermione a dead leg, but she didn't want to let go of Ron. Once again she had been broken and he had fixed her and she dreaded the day he wouldn't be there to do so. She didn't dwell on this though. Right now it was just her, Ron, the skeleton of a giant reptile and a melted cup and she was determined to enjoy the moment.

There was still one question she needed to ask and she knew now would be the only time she was likely to hear the truth she so desperately wanted to hear.

"Ron?"

"Hmm?"

She paused to take a deep breath.

"What really happened when you destroyed the locket?"

The effect was immediate. His hand ceased moving over her tangled hair and his whole body stiffened. Just as she was about to tell him that it didn't matter, he spoke in a low voice. "It showed me my worst fears."

She felt him relax slightly, but he didn't continue. "Like what?"

Ron exhaled loudly before he spoke again. He pulled Hermione tighter against him.

"Just stuff about how- how my mum doesn't love me as much as my brothers… how useless I am… how you-"

He stopped suddenly and Hermione frowned.

"What about me?" she asked quietly

When he didn't reply Hermione leaned back to look at his face and saw that he looked like he regretted saying anything. She tried to look kind and not as desperate as she felt. It seemed to work as Ron gulped and started speaking. "About… about how you-"

"I know that you are preparing to fight."*

Hermione and Ron froze. A high, cold voice was coming from the walls again, but this time it was clear. One look at Ron told Hermione that he could hear it as well this time. She looked around, but couldn't see anybody.

"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me."*

"Is that-"

"Yes."

Hermione tightened her hold on Ron's robes as they listened to Voldemort's speech. This was it. He was at the gates of Hogwarts, an army of Death Eaters in tow, asking for Harry's blood. This was the final battle they had all feared since the war began. By the end of it Harry or Voldemort would be dead and the wizarding world would be changed forever.

"You have until midnight."*

It would all end tonight.

Ron grabbed Hermione's wrist and looked at her watch.

"It's half eleven."

As quickly as they could, they scrambled to their feet and Hermione ran to carefully collect the fangs while Ron scooped up the cup into his pocket and picked up the broom. Ron then took the broom from Hermione and climbed onto it.

"Get on!"

Hermione complied straight away, swung her leg over the broom behind him and held onto him around the middle, making sure the fangs weren't about to stab him.

"Now, I know you don't like flying-"

"JUST GO!"

Ron kicked off and they shot down the Chamber and back out of the entrance like a champagne cork. Hermione buried her head in Ron's back. As they swerved through the tunnel, she couldn't help but admire his flying skills, especially as he was able to get them through the gap in the fallen rock without slowing down. She had never gone this fast on a broom, but she had so much faith in Ron that she found she wasn't scared.

He wasn't a wall of rippling muscle with a chiselled jaw and broad shoulders. He wasn't rich or well-connected and was far from a gentleman, but he was Ron Weasley and that meant so much more than any of that. As they shot back up the pipe to the rest of the castle, fear finally found its way into Hermione's panicking body. They were going to fight in a battle against the worst of humanity and the strongest of Dark magic. Realistically, she and everyone she loved could be killed within the next few hours.

They landed back in the bathroom and Ron looked her over to check she was okay before taking a few of the fangs from her so she didn't have to struggle so much with them. He marched over to the door and put his hand on the handle, but then paused.

"Ron?"

Ron spun around and enveloped Hermione in a hug that she tried to return as best as she could with them both holding basilisk fangs and him clutching a broomstick. She closed her eyes and willed herself not to start crying again. Soon the adrenaline would kick in and she would stop being so emotional, but right now she could feel the seams of her self-control straining.

"This had better not be goodbye, Ron Weasley," she said in a very strained voice.

"It's more of a good luck," he replied in what sounded like a forced chuckle.

They broke apart and smiled shakily at each other.

"Now I guess we've just got to find Harry," he joked before making his way back over to the door. He opened it, gave Hermione one last grin and stepped out into the castle.

It was as she steeled herself to leave after him that Hermione resolved that she was not going to die tonight without kissing Ron Weasley. Her self-doubt had evaporated down in the Chamber and she was not going to let this ridiculous charade they had both been playing continue any longer. She loved him. She was all but certain that he loved her. Now all she had to do was find a quiet place for them to admit it to each other in the middle of a warzone.

* * *

_A/N 2: While I'm here – Am I the only one confused by the part in the film where Ron asks Hermione if she has noticed that Harry talks in his sleep?_

_1. Why is Harry saying "open" in parseltongue in his sleep frequently enough for Ron to memorise it?_

_2. Why does Hermione say no? She has shared a tent with him for the past 9-10 months. Surely she would have heard him? _

_3. Why does Emma Watson deliver the line like she is insulted by the question? Or like she is lying? Or whatever the hell that expression is? _

_4. Why doesn't Ron question her highly suspicious sounding reply?_

_5. I understand they had to explain to film-goers how Ron knew parseltongue but why did they make Hermione's answer so boring? She could've literally said anything else and it would've at least been entertaining and not just some painful exposition. I mean it – _anything.

_E.G. "Have you noticed?"_

"_Banana."_

_This would have confused me less. _

_The whole exchange baffles me. I'm sure there is some kind of significance to it but for the life of me I cannot see it. If anybody can then please let me know; I find the whole thing very distracting. Like replay-the-scene-several-times-and-scream-"WHY? I DON'T UNDERSTAND!" –at-the-TV distracting._

_Before I get angry comments about number 3 – I think Emma Watson is a brilliant actress and this isn't a knock at her. Just that line. And her weird as hell delivery of it._


	17. The Final Battle Part Two

_A/N: This going to be a long one. You have been warned._**  
**

_Firstly, as always, thank you to all you beautiful reviewers/alerters/favouriters out there. You are beautiful. No matter what they say. No, words can't bring you down, oh no no._

_Secondly, for all of you who wanted to read the kiss - that moment was many things but it was not missing so it will not feature in this story, sorry. _

_Oh and if you are one of the three people in the fandom who isn't reading 'Australia' by MsBinns then what are you doing with your life? Go and read it._

_And finally, thank you for all the theories about that scene in DH2. I'd already considered a few but a couple were new but I still don't quite get it. It will forever be one of life's great mysteries. _

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter but I own a pen shaped like a red vine. So I win._

* * *

**The Final Battle – Part Two**

(_Cease Fire / At the Ravenclaw table_)

Above him he saw the unmistakable signs of dawn creeping onto the dark blue canopy above him. The stars were beginning to fade and a pinkish tinge was swelling in the east. There was no denying that it was a beautiful night that found Ron Weasley staring up at the ceiling of the Great Hall, twirling an unfamiliar wand in his hands.

_Why, then, was it so hell bent on mocking them._ he thought, trying in vain to block out the sound of his mother's anguished sobs.

He was sat cross legged on the floor a few feet away from his family, hoping that being physically further from them would somehow distance him from their shared pain. As Mrs Weasley gave a particularly painful cry, Ron closed his eyes. He was sick of the stars taunting him. Why were they just staring at him, unmoving? Wasn't there something useful they could do?

Even as he thought this he knew there was nothing they could do. There was nothing anyone could do. Not now. Not ever.

Ron lowered his gaze to the horror in front of him. His mother was still lying over _his_ chest. She seemed to have run out of tears and her weeping sounded painful, as though the noises were being forcibly taken from her. His father was holding her, looking utterly defeated, and behind him stood George. He was no longer crying, although you could see the tears streaked on his stony expression. His face was completely void of the laughter that was usually ever present. Percy gripped George's shoulder tightly to stop him shaking, despite his own lanky form trembling. George turned at the touch and embraced his older brother.

Twenty four hours ago Ron would've been happy to see Percy back with the rest of the family, but now it made him sick. He knew he was being irrational, but maybe if Percy hadn't been there then when the wall had exploded-

Ron turned away and looked at the people stood opposite his two brothers. He wasn't going to think about it.

Bill had Ginny in a hug so tight that his knuckles were white. He was taking shallow breaths and was staring down at his parents, tears rolling down his scarred face. Ron could see Ginny, who had her face planted in Bill's chest, shaking with what he thought must be tears. Ginny never cried. He didn't want to see her cry. Ron looked beyond them, momentarily forgetting what lay there.

Lupin and Tonks. By the time he had seen their bodies he was already beyond tears, beyond anger. He had just stared at them, unbelieving. He couldn't bear to think of little Teddy so he didn't. He didn't think or feel anything at all. Ron felt so detached from the whole scene that he may as well have been looking into some strange glass tank in which everyone was miserable.

Stood by the parents that would now never watch their son grow up were Hermione and Fleur, the older woman with her arm around the younger one's shoulders. They were stood away from the rest of the group, clearly feeling they didn't truly belong, despite one of them bearing the Weasley name. Hermione tore her eyes away from Tonk's blank face and looked up at Ron watching her. Ron's eyes snapped back to Bill and Ginny, the book ends of the Weasley children. Ginny had turned her head so she could see Ron. Their eyes met briefly and Ron felt something bubble inside of him, as he knew it would the moment he made eye contact with anybody he knew.

Unable to be there anymore, Ron got up and walked quickly from the hall.

"Ron?" called a soft voice he knew so well he could picture the expression that went with it. He continued walking; he had no desire to talk to anyone right now, least of all her. Ron knew he was about to lose control and he didn't want her to see it.

This had no effect on Hermione and she continued to pursue him into the Entrance Hall.

"Ron," she said again, grabbing his arm just outside of the large doors. "Where are you going?"

"I-I can't just sit there." Ron had closed his eyes in the hope that it would block her out. He should have realised after all these years it was impossible to do so.

Ron opened his eyes and saw Hermione in front of him, concern etched into every line of her tear stained and scratched face. Her brown eyes were dull and Ron felt himself growing angry.

"He's out there," he spat, pointing at the oak front doors. "Right now! We know where he is and- and we're all just _standing there?_"

Horror flashed over Hermione's face as she realised who he was talking about. "Ron, we can't just go after him!"

"Why not? We know he's out there! We could just-"

Hermione gripped his arms and he saw more tears shining in her eyes.

"No. You know why we mustn't. You know it wouldn't do any-"

"What's going on?" came a hoarse voice from the threshold of the Great Hall.

Ron turned to see Ginny there. Her face was red and blotchy, yet determined. She could obviously sense they were up to something and she was itching to be involved.

"Nothing, Ginny. Just-"

Ron, breathing heavily, pulled his arms from Hermione's grasp. "HOW CAN YOU SAY THIS IS NOTHING?" he roared at her. He was being irrational again and he knew it, but something was painfully forcing its way through his veins.

"I didn't mean anyth-"

"WHY ARE WE STILL JUST STANDING HERE?"

"Ron, please stop shouting," whimpered Hermione. She was shooting glances at the mourners in the Great Hall. The unshed tears were shining with remorse at having upset him. On top of everything else, he felt a twinge of guilt.

Ron pulled his hair in frustration and turned to Ginny who had just spoken.

"Have you got a plan?" she asked, her eyes blazing. He was sure she was mirroring his own desire for justice, for vengeance.

"Counter attack. He won't be expecting it. Get them all surrounded and move in, catch them off guard," Ron spoke very quickly. The whole time he was sat, looking at the pretend sky in the Great Hall, he had been thinking about it. With Voldemort and the Death Eaters gathered in one place it would be so easy to circle them. Surely there were enough people left to execute the attack.

Ginny nodded and pulled out her wand.

"No."

Ron turned to Hermione, shocked by her tone. She didn't sound teary anymore; she sounded furious.

"Why not, Hermione?" Ginny rounded on her, angrily. "It makes sense. You know it could-"

Hermione cut across her. She was staring at Ron with such intensity that her could almost feel his eyes burn.

"You know _exactly_ why we can't do that," she said through gritted teeth. She took a step forward as if to try and block Ginny from the conversation. "I can't believe you would be so irresponsible."

Why didn't she understand? He couldn't sit idly by while the monster responsible for all of this continued to breathe within walking distance of him.

"If we got everyone from-" Ginny started again but Hermione only had eyes for Ron.

"We need to just wait to hear from Harry about Snape and then-"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT HARRY!" Ron was beyond reason. There was no way in hell that he was going to wait to hear what a murdering git had to say. "I DON'T CARE ABOUT SNAPE! I DON'T CARE ABOUT HORCRUXES!"

"RON!" Hermione screamed. Her hands were balled into fists as though she was trying to stop herself from attacking him.

"What're horcruxes?" questioned Ginny.

"It doesn't matter, Ginny," Hermione snapped, still looking at Ron.

"DON'T TELL ME IT DOESN'T MATTER! I'm not going to sit and watch again while you two run off and fight!" Ginny yelled.

Hermione grabbed Ron's shoulders and shook him, tears shining in her eyes again. "Is this what you want? Ginny involved with a suicide mission? Please listen to me," she pleaded.

"I'm not just some little girl-"

"SHUT UP!" bellowed Ron and Hermione at the same time. Ginny looked highly affronted and stormed off towards the front doors.

"Fine," she screamed over her shoulder. "I'll go and do something useful - if I'm actually capable!"

Ron glared at Hermione's glowering face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he realised this was the first time they had been alone together since they were in the Chamber. It had only been a few hours ago but so much had changed. When was this day going to end?

After a few moments of staring at each other angrily, Hermione glanced at the Great Hall where several people were stood watching their argument.

"Come on," she huffed, pulling him towards a blasted open doorway on the opposite side of the hall.

They walked down the half destroyed corridor until Hermione was sure they were out of hearing distance and she turned to glare at him. Ron gave her a hard look. Immediately her expression softened.

"I know this is hard," she said quietly, "but there is still a horcrux left. We can't just attack."

Anger flared up inside Ron. He didn't need her pity. He needed action. He needed to curse as many Death Eaters as he possibly could. Who cared if he died in the attempt?

"You don't get it! He's _right there!_" he growled at her.

Hermione seemed unfazed by Ron's aggression and took a step towards him.

"Please calm down, Ron," she said sympathetically. He could hear the tears in her voice now. "We _will_ do something, but not just yet."

"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!" he thundered. "FRED IS DEAD!"

The words were ripped from him against his will. He could see them, hanging in the small space between them, consuming the air, making it hard for Ron to breathe. They seemed to echo along the cracked walls of the empty corridor for eternity. Pressure was building up behind Ron's eyes and in his chest, making his bones ache.

"He's dead… and…" he choked. "It's…I don't- I c-can't-"

Suddenly his knees gave way and he collapsed forwards into Hermione, who staggered but managed to stay standing. Ron was barely aware that she had pushed him back so that he was sat on the sill of a broken window. What he was aware of was that when she tried to pull away from him, he clung to her as the misery inside of him escaped; the misery he had been trying to avoid for the past few hours.

Fred was dead. It was all he could think. Fred was dead. His life was over but the war wasn't - far from it in fact. How many more people were going to die? Who else was he going to lose? Far in the distance he could hear himself howling and shouting incoherent, random words into Hermione's shoulder. The force of his outcries were ripping his vocal chords apart while his shallow breaths were stabbing his lungs. He gripped her for support, as though somehow, if he held her, she wouldn't be taken from him, as though he could physically squeeze an idea of how to bring Fred back out of her. He knew he must be hurting her but he couldn't stop. The damn had burst and every ounce of his strength and self-control was being swept away by the tide of despair.

Tears must have been there, but he couldn't feel them running down his cheeks. He couldn't do this anymore. What was the point in fighting? So many people had already lost their lives… What were they hoping to achieve? A higher body count? More broken families? How could they have been so naïve to think that they could actually win this? They were nothing more than children.

Ron started taking deep breaths. It was only then that he realised he had been shaking. On his third calming breath, he took in the scent of burnt hair, the metallic smell of blood and something else… Something that could only be her. Loosening his grip on Hermione, he felt her stroking the back of his neck and the soft sound of her whispering meaningless words of comfort to him. Her voice was shaking; she was evidently crying.

Gradually, Ron lifted his head off her shoulder to look at her. Hermione's face was coated in grime that was slightly smudged from sweat and tears and there was a nasty looking cut above her right eye. Her cheeks were red and raw looking, but her brown eyes were shining through it all. Amongst all of the pain that was written all over her features, she was still there, almost blinding him.

Ron leant forward and gently kissed her on the mouth. His chapped lips stayed there for only a second before he pulled away just enough to feel her jagged breath on his face. He paused for the smallest of moments before they simultaneously lunged for each other, crushing the other one's lips in a kiss that wiped all thought from Ron's mind.

As her hands raked through his hair, pulling him down to her, his own found their way onto her shoulder blades and pushed her into him. The kiss was desperate and clumsy. It had nothing to do with love or romance; it was a release for the tornado of emotion ripping through him. Ron needed this and, from the way Hermione returned each bruising movement with interest, he guessed she did too.

They were still so far from the end of the battle, but Ron was beginning to see a light at the end of it. Yes, his brother and many friends had died but so many more were still breathing, still fighting. Slowly the kiss developed rhythm and become less frantic but more passionate. Ron ran his fingers through her soft, yet tangled hair and tried to hold on to the buzzing orb of light in his chest.

He was still here. She was still here. Nothing was going to take that away from him.

"McGonagall says the hour is up and we have to- OH!"

He and Hermione flew apart at the sound of Ginny's exclamation. He felt the heat rising in his face as he stared at the look of blank shock on his sister's.

"What the hell-"

"Ginny, it isn't-"

"We can explain-"

"Harry Potter is dead."*

Stunned silence. The contents of Ron's stomach evaporated as the amplified voice of the enemy echoed once again through the hallowed halls of Hogwarts.

"No…" muttered Ginny frantically.

"He was killed as he ran away-"*

"He was with you, in-in the hall…"

"-trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him."*

"He was in the hall. Ron, tell me he was in the hall."

Ron stiffly turned to look at Hermione next to him. The expression of horror that he saw confirmed what he feared and already knew to be true - no one had seen Harry since they had first entered the Great Hall. Silently, Ron communicated this back to her and he watched as the truth dawned on Hermione's face, while it crawled up his insides.

"We bring you his body as proof that your hero has gone."*

Ginny saw the silent exchange of glances between him and Hermione and started taking deep controlling breaths. "No. It isn't true. IT ISN'T TRUE!" she shrieked, blocking out the terrible voice that rang through the corridor. "He wants us to think that! He-he's lying! H-Harry would _never _give himself up!"

The feeling in Ron's throat intensified. Did he think Harry would lay down his life to save everyone? Yes, was the honest answer. Yes, every single time.

"G-Ginny-"

"NO, HERMIONE!" she screamed, batting away Hermione's attempt to put an arm around her. "HE – IS- NOT –DEAD!"

"-the Boy Who Lived is finished-"*

"Ginny, please," Ron croaked, stepping forward. She rounded on him for support.

"Tell her it isn't true."

"G-Ginny, stop-"

"Don't look at me like that, Ron!"

He reached her and put a hand on each of her trembling shoulders. He looked into her eyes and tried to think of what to say. No words came to mind. How could they? Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, The Chosen One, his best friend for the past seven years was dead. Ginny searched his face for the reassurance he couldn't give and Ron watched as his little sister screwed up her face against the pain swelling inside of her.

"Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me-"*

Without hesitating the three of them moved forward, slowly at first as their legs were filled with lead, but then they were sprinting towards the Entrance Hall. Ron was in the lead. With each stride he begged for it not to be true. While the facts were staring him in the face he refused to fully accept it. A crowd was quickly making its way out of the Great Hall, but Ron and the girls were ahead of them. Professor McGonagall was already there.

"NO!"*

The scream of his old teacher tore through him. As he reached the threshold, Ron stopped and looked out at the sea of black robes in front of him. The Death Eaters were gathered on the front lawn of Hogwarts, triumph gleaming on their wretched faces. There was only one thing that could possibly have given them that look…

"No!"*he yelled. Hermione and Ginny caught up with and stood on either side of him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them both look downward.

"_No!_"*

"Harry! HARRY!"*

Ron's eyes found the tall, pale figure standing front and centre of the crowd. Ron, for the first time in his life, found himself staring into the glaring red eyes of Lord Voldemort. He could see a malevolent pleasure there, burning into him as he tried to wipe all trace of fear out of his own. Voldemort's thin lips twisted into a cruel smile and he gestured to the ground at his feet.

As he sensed more people joining him on the steps and with one last look of loathing, Ron dropped his gaze to the heap of black robes on the floor and felt the world fall apart.

* * *

It had been a long day and it still wasn't over.

Hermione stared at the ancient wood of the Ravenclaw table in front of her, imagining all of the great people who had once sat where she now sat, under the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. She numbly wondered if in the future people would sit at this table and imagine what today had looked like. If they would wonder what the victory smelled like. If they would hear the echoes of the celebratory roar after years gone by.

If they would picture what Tom Riddle looked like as he took his final breath, screamed his final curse then hit the floor as though he were merely a discarded child's plaything.

Hermione tried to answer these questions herself but couldn't, despite having been a part of the final push for victory. With Harry, the brother she had never had and the only hope for the world, dead, she could see little reason to keep fighting. It was then she had seen Bellatrix Lestrange's taunting glare and she found her cause: to take as many of them down with her as she possibly could.

Another cheer exploded by the wall opposite Hermione and she looked up to find its cause. Sat at what was supposedly the Slytherin table was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, surrounded by people Hermione only knew by sight or first name. They were hounding him and clapping him on the back while he was all smiles and handshakes. Underneath the thin outer layer he was showing to his fans, Hermione could clearly see Harry, the Boy Who Desperately Needed Sleep, hating every minute of the attention.

She watched him for a minute, still feeling the shockwaves of seeing him appear in the middle of the Hall. Even when she had turned her gaze elsewhere, Hermione's eyes flicked back to him, checking that he was still alive. Looking back to that moment that had only happened a couple of hours ago, Hermione was relieved that she hadn't had time to fully comprehend Harry's 'death', for if she had she doubted she would have found the strength to walk, let alone fight.

Of course, not everyone had been as lucky as Harry. The hardest part of today had been walking into the Great Hall for the first time since they had arrived at Hogwarts. The moment she had crossed the threshold Hermione had headed straight for Ginny. She had not seen her friend in nine months and knowing she was safe was like a ball of heat in her chest that she clung to as she had looked around the Hall at those who lay still around her.

Ginny was alive.

Remus was dead.

George was alive.

Fred was dead.

Luna was alive.

Tonks was dead.

The constant see-saw of emotion proved too much and Hermione had stepped away from the Weasleys in the hope of gaining some perspective. Unfortunately it only gave her a better view of other bodies.

A member of the Order she had never spoken to.

The woman who had worked at Scrivenshafts.

Lisa Turpin, her friend from Arithmancy.

It was for Lisa that Hermione now sat at the Ravenclaw table. At least once during her school career Lisa would have sat at this spot and seen the Great Hall from this angle. She never would again. It did nothing to bring her back or sooth the pain, but Hermione felt it was better to be doing something, even if it was just sitting on her own, thinking and trying to make sense of one small portion of the day.

While the Slytherin table in front of her was full with celebrating students and teachers, the Hufflepuff table behind her was home to the part of the battle she wanted to forget most of all. Hermione slowly turned to see that the majority of the Weasleys were sat huddled together, looking as unobtrusive as their trademark hair allowed them to. Through the gap between Bill and Percy shoulders, Hermione could see Mrs Weasley, the never ending stream of tears still falling down her pale face, holding her youngest son, who had his face buried in her neck.

Hermione turned back towards the table at which she sat and tried to block all the images forcing their way into her head.

Percy's screams as he knelt by his brother.

Charlie dragging George out into the grounds to stop him staring at Fred's corpse.

Ron, bawling his eyes out, clinging to her like his life depended on it, yelling that he wished it was him who had died.

She had seen Ron cry more in the past three hours than she had in nearly seven years and it made her feel uncomfortable. Ron was her pillar. While everything else fell apart and shifted, Ron remained a strong constant. Now he could barely seem to stand without support. None of the Weasleys could.

_At least they have each other, _Hermione thought. With a pang of sadness she remembered her own family. Suddenly she didn't want to be alone any more.

"Knew you would end up here someday."

His voice was rough and cracked, but she would have recognised it anywhere. Hermione spun around and saw that Ron was stood behind her, as though he had somehow read her mind. His red-rimmed eyes shone out from his scratched and dirty face. He had managed to acquire a hefty lump on his temple since the last time she had seen him this close and his lip looked as though it had been split but recently mended.

"What?" she said, still slightly in awe of his sudden appearance.

"Ravenclaw," he replied simply, sliding his hands into his robe pockets. "Knew it was only a matter of time before you left us for the other bookworms."

He gave her a small smile as she arched an eyebrow.

"By us you mean the Hufflepuffs?" Hermione said, pointedly looking over at where Ron had been last time she had seen him. Mr Weasley was now doing his best to help his wife in Ron's stead.

"What can I say?" chuckled Ron, with a small shrug. "Yellow compliments my eyes beautifully."

They both laughed as Hermione shuffled over on the bench to let him sit down. The sound was foreign to Hermione's ears and she had stopped long before Ron had made himself comfortable. She looked up at him and their eyes met. Really, if it weren't for the destruction that surrounded them and their appearance, this could have been any normal day at Hogwarts; sitting in the Great Hall teasing each other, preparing to go to lessons.

They sat in silence for a moment before Hermione finally spoke.

"You okay?"

Ron immediately looked at his knees as Hermione knew he would. "Will be," he mumbled, with a cough, "just worried about Mum, really."

Before she could think of a reply, Ron had forced himself to look up again, this time with a smile on his face. It was the smile she had fallen for all those years ago. She could feel herself blushing as she remembered what else Ron had recently been doing with his mouth.

The tell-tale pink crept up onto Ron's ears and they both snapped their heads forward to look directly ahead. The companionable silence they had shared just moments ago was gone, replaced by a swelling sense of unease.

They had always let their actions speak louder than their words. A hug here and a kiss on the cheek there was how they had always tried to let the other one know what they were really thinking. Words led to misunderstandings, arguments and storming off. But here they were, on the precipice of the something more that Hermione had always craved and they finally had the chance to talk. No more distractions, wild goose chases or excuses. Just her, Ron and one last chance to blow everything up in their faces.

"Some party, eh?" joked Ron, in an attempt to ease the tension. "I heard even that Harry Potter bloke was here somewhere."

Hermione gave a short laugh but couldn't make her voice work. They had been friends for nearly seven years. They had even kissed – _twice – _and they were still struggling to hold up the white flag of surrender and admit the now obvious secret that they had kept to themselves for so long.

"This is awkward, isn't it?" Ron gulped.

"Very," Hermione replied automatically.

Hermione started fiddling with a rip in the sleeve of her robes and felt guilt settle in her. His brother, among many other friends, had just died. Now was not the time to try and navigate through their change in relationship.

"Hermione-"

"You don't have to say anything," Hermione interrupted, as she placed a hand on top of his.

"Yes, I do," Ron said forcefully. "I think we've put it off too long already."

Hermione watched patiently as Ron sat back and sighed as he looked around the room, as though he could find inspiration. There was something building in the air, like before a thunderstorm, and Hermione knew this was one of those moments in life where nothing seemed real, but she knew she was more than merely existing.

"You were standing here," he finally said in a far off voice, staring at the table.

"Sorry?"

"You were standing here when it all started, I think," Ron reiterated, still not looking at her. "I can never quite place the moment… but this is when I should've noticed." It was almost as if he were speaking to himself.

"Noticed what?" Hermione asked softly, her mouth dry. Ron looked at her unabashedly and Hermione stiffened in anticipation.

"You," he answered simply. Ron held her gaze for a few seconds before he swallowed hard and continued talking to her left shoulder. "You were here and you were dancing with him and when I first saw you I-I freaked out and then I spent the dinner trying not to think about you, but then I saw you dancing and- I couldn't look away."

"Oh," said Hermione. "So you _were_ jealous?" she added accusingly.

Fear flashed across Ron's face until he noticed that she was smiling. He automatically relaxed as the weight of his secret left him. Rather than answer her question, Ron seemed to struggle with himself before blurting out, "What did you see in him anyway?"

"Viktor?" asked Hermione with a small laugh. She mockingly pondered this for a moment before sarcastically saying "The international Quidditch star, hero of the last World Cup, Triwizard champion who told me I was beautiful every five minutes, I have no idea-"

"I think you're beautiful."

Hermione gawped at him. He had said it. Petulantly and while frowning at his knees, but he had still said it.

"W-what?" She wanted to say something more eloquent but her mind was still reeling.

"I-I mean," Ron stuttered, turning red quicker than Hermione had ever seen him do so before, "not right now obviously - you look a state-"

"Thanks," scoffed Hermione.

"But you are," continued Ron in a small voice. "Beautiful, I mean."

Hours of tears, months of wondering and years of wanting had led to this moment and Hermione wanted to tell him everything; the jealousy, the uncertainty and the love. About how she had seen Quidditch matches as an excuse to watch him, without being caught. How she had taken to spending time in Ginny's room to avoid Lavender rhapsodising about her brand new love. How she had met up with Viktor on Ron's fifteenth birthday and kissed him with everything she had in an attempt to make her feel _something _for him and not her ignorant best friend.

The way he had stolen her heart before either of them understood what it had meant.

It was her heart that Hermione had to think about now. They had been here before - _well not this far_, she thought - but close to confessing all and every single time Hermione had put her heart on the line Ron either didn't notice, harshly rejected it and at times smashed it to pieces. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again. If Ron wanted this, he would meet her halfway.

"This is the bit where you say something nice about me, right?" he joked hesitantly. His nervous attempts at bravado were so endearing that Hermione felt her resolve slipping already.

To stop herself from throwing herself at him, she simply raised her eyebrows and said, "You look a state also."

"Oh, haha," muttered Ron.

Somewhere behind them Hermione could hear Grawp encouraging the students to throw food at him in broken English. Though the sight would undoubtedly be interesting, she only had eyes for Ron, who in turn gazed back with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Why did you never say anything?" whispered Hermione. "Why did we have to go through Lavender and McLaggen and all that other rubbish?"

"I didn't know if you… y'know?" shrugged Ron sheepishly. "You were always writing to Krum or – _you_ never said anything!" he fired out suddenly.

"I asked you out!" cried Hermione indignantly. "How much more did you need?"

"Well, I gave you a Valentine's Day card," he retorted. "That, by the way, you completely ignored." Ron's eyes widened, evidently regretting his last words, and he abruptly turned away from Hermione. How was it they were both still able to blush at something as innocent as a card?

"A Valentine's – when?" breathed Hermione, in shock.

"Last year," mumbled Ron. "I er… was still with Lavender but… I don't know. I didn't know what I was expecting. I just needed to speak to you again."

Hermione's mind flew back to the previous February. That morning she had found a small card in her Ancient Runes book as she took it out to read during breakfast. It was simply design, a basic red heart with '_Happy Valentine's Day'_ written above it. With slightly nervous hands, she had opened it to find a single word there – _sorry._

"You ripped it up," Ron continued in a sad voice. "Even though I charmed the handwriting to not look like mine, you still guessed it was me and-"

"No, I didn't," Hermione cut in. "I looked up and McLaggen was leering at me from further down the table so I thought it was from him!"

As she had stuffed the destroyed card back in her bag, Hermione had checked to see if anyone had witnessed her actions and she had seen Ron morosely prodding his scrambled eggs. At the time she had believed he was dreading spending a _romantic _day with Lavender. Hermione had smirked as she propped up her book against the jug of pumpkin juice and waited for Harry.

"Sorry," Hermione said quietly.

Ron shrugged. "I just always thought you never saw me like that and the times I thought that maybe you might, I messed it up. I always messed it up."

His tone was bitter and while part of her agreed, she still couldn't let him beat himself up like this. "Neither of us behaved perfectly, Ron."

"I was worse," Ron continued dejectedly. "I don't see why you're even here now. You could have any bloke you wanted, but instead you're here with me."

"What's wrong with that?" Hermione said sharply. She could see where this was going and felt the usual annoyance building inside of her.

"Well, you're great and smart and, well, you," he mumbled, "and I'm… I'm just… me."

Something inside Hermione snapped. She couldn't believe that after everything he had done, Ron still saw himself as the little brother with the famous best friend and nothing to say for himself.

"What?" gulped Ron when he saw the hard look on her face.

"'_Just me?' _You are the bravest, funniest, sweetest person I know," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not brave-" began Ron.

"Shut up," snapped Hermione and Ron winced at her harsh tone. "Ron Weasley, you walked into a lair of giant spiders on the off chance it might save others! Even when you're scared beyond belief you do the right thing anyway! Bravery doesn't exist in the absence of fear, but in spite of it. And what was it Dumbledore said? 'It takes courage to stand up to your enemies but more to stand up for your friends?'"

"How do you remember this stuff?" asked Ron weakly. He was slouching in his seat as if to try and avoid her praise.

"Well, it takes even more to stand up to a supposed crazed mass murderer on a broken leg!" Hermione half-shouted. Her tiredness was getting to her, she could feel her eyes burning slightly and it was starting to affect her mind. Her plan not to lay her heart on the line seemed to have been thrown out of the window. Instead she was willing placing it on the line next to a giant neon sign saying 'KICK ME'. Now she had started, she didn't seem to be able to finish.

"And how dare you think you are nothing special?" she continued as Ron glanced around to see if anybody would save him. "You are a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for, if you only worked harder you'd see. You overlook everything that makes you special and put too much value on things that don't matter!"

Ron had apparently accepted his fate and was now just gawping at her as Hermione felt the beginnings of tears sting her eyes.

"I don't care how much gold you have or what your older brothers have achieved! You've done so much more. You have become your own person and that's the best compliment I can give you," Hermione choked. "I just wish you could see it for yourself."

She could feel herself becoming slightly hysterical and was failing to keep her voice down. Ron no longer looked scared or embarrassed, but instead was viewing her with concern and a hint of awe. A voice inside her head was begging her to stop talking but she ignored it.

"You have the biggest heart of anyone I know," she all but growled at him as she slammed her hand down on the table, making Ron jump. "You're the only one who knows when I'm pushing myself too hard and you have always looked after me or Ginny or Harry. You can be a prat as well, but you always _mean_ well."

She was definitely losing her mind. Her inner voice had given up and had left her to her increasingly erratic speech.

"You have the most amazing smile," she ploughed on recklessly, in an ever increasing volume, "and this ridiculously adorable puppy dog face you pull when you want me to do something for you and you're great at Quidditch and even better at chess and you have saved my life more times and in more ways than I think I'll ever realise and that, Ron, is why I-I love you."

Finally, Hermione stopped talking. Her tirade had ended in almost a whimper and now she stared, frozen in horror, at Ron who had only reacted by raising his eyebrows slightly. After what could have been hours, in which neither of them moved a muscle, Ron's eyes dropped slowly to her lips and Hermione watched, fixated, as he gradually leaned in.

"Ronnie?"

"D-Dad!" spluttered Ron as they both sat up straight to look at Mr Weasley behind them, who looked like he didn't quite know what to do with himself. Hermione watched as he squeezed his son's shoulder and gave him a shaky smile. She had always liked and respected Mr Weasley, which is why she found it so hard to look at him now, when he was so obviously lost and broken.

Behind him Hermione could see Ginny sat stiffly next to Mrs Weasley, who started gently shooing Bill and Percy away from her. The moment they stood up Ginny crumbled into her mother's waiting arms. Many years ago Ginny had told Hermione that the biggest mistake you can make in a house full of boys is crying in front of them. It struck her as strange that Ginny would follow this mantra even now.

"I'm glad you're all right, Ronnie," Mr Wealsey said softly. Ron didn't seem to mind him using his old nickname for once. "You too, Hermione," he added, with a nod in her direction.

"Thanks, Dad," Ron whispered while all Hermione found she could do was smile slightly.

"I just-" Mr Weasley began before taking a deep breath. "What you've done…I just wanted to say I am more proud of you than I can say, Ron. You've become… a fine young man," he said with difficulty. "I know it- it couldn't have been easy being one of the youngest and I'm sorry if you ever felt- ever felt left out or-"

He trailed off and gave Ron an awkward pat on the back and a quick smile before deciding he couldn't say anymore and turned to leave. Ron stared after him, his jaw set.

"Ron?" Hermione said worriedly.

Ignoring her, Ron stood up and called his father, who immediately turned back around.

"I-I just want to say," Ron said as steadily as he could, "if I'm even half the man you think I am, it's because of you, Dad."

Hermione watched as both men walked slowly towards each other. Mr Weasley pulled Ron into a short hug and slapped him on the back. Before Hermione could register what she was seeing, for none of the Weasley males dealt well with physical contact, Mr Weasley was heading towards Bill and Percy and Ron had sat back down next to her.

Ron was glaring at the table, shaking with the effort of not crying. His hands were balled into fists and Hermione was a bit frightened to talk to him in case he lashed out. Without warning, Ron grabbed one of Hermione's hands that she had resting on her thigh and squeezed it tightly.

"I am _not _going to mess this up, Hermione," he growled forcefully. The intensity in his eyes was powerful enough to render her speechless. "I promise. I'm not going to mess this up."

Hermione nodded slowly, as a single tear fell down Ron's grubby cheek. She was on the verge of crying herself as she reached up to cup his face and he kissed her softly on the lips.

They were in the Great Hall, surrounded by the injured and the dead, the celebratory and the grieving, their family and friends, but at that moment it was just the two them and the promise that everything from that moment on would be better. The kiss didn't have the urgency of the first nor the desperation of the second, but it had an indescribable quality to it that Hermione would happily spend the rest of her life trying to define.

Eventually Hermione pulled away but kept her hand on his cheek. In spite of everything, they grinned sheepishly at each other before Hermione started giggling.

"What?" squawked Ron, defensively. "It wasn't that bad a kiss!"

"No, it wasn't," Hermione admitted, feeling her face heat up. "It's that, well… you've got dirt on your nose. Just there," she added, poking the side of his long nose. She grinned at him; he had dirt all over his face. They both did.

Ron laughed as the echo of an almost forgotten conversation was heard.

"Do you remember the day we met?" he asked, suddenly putting an arm around her waist.

"You were sat on a train with that famous Harry Potter, trying to turn a rat, who was actually a human, yellow using a fake spell and a wand that would be destroyed by a fighting tree a year later," Hermione replied slowly, screwing her face up as if she had difficulty remembering the day.

"Yeah, that was it," chuckled Ron. "You were looking for a toad."

"I accused you of fighting, but you said it was actually a sleeping rat's fault."

"I said I didn't care what house I was in as long as you weren't in it."

Soon they both fell about laughing at how strange their meeting had been. Had it really been nearly seven years ago?

"We've come a long way," said Hermione, softly. In what she considered to be a daring move, Hermione hugged Ron around the waist and placed her head on his shoulder. He responded by pulling her closer and resting his head on top of hers.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, Ron?"

"You know when you've finished that book you're writing?"

Hermione lifted her head up to give Ron a confused look. "What book?"

"That book about crazy things that girls say and what they actually mean and stuff," he replied as if the answer had been obvious.

"Oh, yes," laughed Hermione as it dawned on her, "that book I have absolutely no intention of starting?"

"Yeah, well, when you've finished it," Ron continued, disregarding what Hermione had just said, "you should write another one called '"_Has Anyone Seen A Toad?" To "I Love You" In Seven Simple Years'."_

Ron laughed and went to pull Hermione back close to him but she resisted. Hermione looked at him and felt uncertainty trickle into the otherwise perfect moment. Ron shot her a questioning look and she blurted out, "You haven't actually said it yet."

"What?"

Hermione gave him a stern look. Did it really matter at this point for her to hear the words? He had shown and all but told her - she could almost feel it radiating off him - but until she had confirmation, the spiral of uncertainty wouldn't end. Ron looked at her, puzzled.

"Oh, that," he said, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, I have said it."

Hermione frowned at him in disbelief. "No, you haven't," she shot back.

"Yes, I have."

"I would have remembered it," said Hermione scathingly.

Ron looked highly offended "Well, I have said it!" he insisted.

"When- oh, you can't possibly mean-" spluttered Hermione, shaking her head. "Oh, that doesn't count!"

Ron grinned at her, infuriating her further. Only Ron would class _that_ as a declaration of love.

"Yes, it does," he insisted.

"You thought your name was Roonil Wazlib at the time," exclaimed Hermione.

"So?"

_Surely he can't be serious, _thought Hermione, dumbfounded. At the time she had promised herself not to read too much into what was obviously a slip of the tongue, after all he had been exhausted and she was saving him hours of extra work. He would have probably said the same thing to Harry if it had been him saving his essay.

"You were still with Lavender!"

"I said it and I meant it," Ron stated stubbornly, folding his arms. "It counts."

Hermione copied his stance and glared at him. "You said it like you speaking to a bacon sandwich!"

His mouth fell open in horror. He suddenly looked very serious.

"I have _never,_" implored Ron sincerely, "said that to a bacon sandwich and not meant it."

Hermione tried to keep her expression severe and angry, but one look at Ron's face and she cracked. It started with only the corner of her mouth twitching but soon she dissolved into peals of laughter. It felt good to be arguing over what was essentially a moot point and not something that was life or death.

"You really want to hear it?" said Ron in an almost quiet disbelief.

"It would be nice, yes," she replied stiffly.

"Fine," he said with the ghost of a smirk on his face. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yes?" she breathed.

The smile that had been dancing around Ron's lips since the beginning of their conversation melted away. At first fear flashed across his face and Hermione wondered if she had pushed him into saying something that he didn't truly mean. She needn't have worried however, as at the next moment Ron took her hand in his slightly shaking, larger one. He looked at their clasped hands before meeting her eyes with a soft look on his face that Hermione couldn't ever remember seeing before.

"I lov-"

"It's me. Will you come with me?"*

Hermione bite back an exasperated sigh as she dropped Ron's hand; after everything they had followed Harry through since they had met him, this was the first time he had actually asked for them to go with him, now when the danger had passed. It was also the only time Hermione could remember being tempted to refuse.

Simultaneously, Hermione and Ron stood up and made their way through the Hall, tailing their invisible friend. Hermione glanced at Ron and saw that he was staring at his trainers, looking devastated. She tugged gently on the sleeve of his robe and he shot her an apologetic look. His disappointment at the missed opportunity was palpable. Hermione gave him a small smile and mouthed "I know".

Ron's face lit up and he grinned widely at her as they walked out of the Great Hall together.

* * *

*Line from Deathly Hallows, Chapter 36

* * *

_A\N 2: For those of you who are sad that this story is over..._

_... Don't be. There is one chapter left._

_Thank you for sticking around this long :)_


	18. Nineteen Minutes Later

_A/N: So here we are. The final chapter. This one is a little different._

_I'll leave the big note for the end. Enjoy._

_Disclaimer: J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter and I will never be able to thank her enough._

* * *

**Nineteen Minutes Later **

**(**_An Epilogue of Sorts_**)**

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sat in the Gryffindor common room. As Harry looked around the familiar room, he couldn't help but be struck by how normal this was. The three of them were thankfully the only ones in there. Harry assumed most people would still be in the Great Hall and weren't quite ready to go to bed yet. Although most of them hadn't been awake for nearly thirty hours.

Hermione was sat in one of the comfortable armchairs by the fire place opposite him with a plate of small sandwiches on her lap and her ankles crossed. Ron was sat sprawled out on the hearth rug between them, his plate abandoned next to him, the crumbs that were once his sandwiches, littering the front on his robes. Harry was sat in his usual armchair, his plate empty on the arm next to him.

Of course this wasn't your average day in the common room, Harry thought dryly. For one thing, the three of them were wearing robes that were not part of their school uniform and were ripped, burnt and filthy in every way imaginable. For another, they were covered in more bruises and cuts than they could hope to ever count. Also a fair few of the windows were smashed and debris lettered the floor. Weirdest of all was that, for the first time ever, they were not in the same room as a fragment of Lord Voldemort's soul, a thought that gave Harry chills to think about. They were, however, joined by an elderly house elf, whom Ron was currently talking to.

"It was no problem, Master Weasley," croaked Kreacher, who was sporting a bulging black eye. "Kreacher is happy to help Master's friends, especially when Master's friends have saved the entire magical world."

Kreacher gave Ron what Harry assumed was a smile but looked more like a grimace of pain given how swollen his face currently was. Ron, his ears turning faintly red, returned the smile despite looking slightly disturbed by it.

"Would Master like anything else?" Kreacher asked, turning to face Harry. "Kreacher would not mind fetching Master anything Master desired."

Harry looked down at Kreacher's hopeful eyes and shook his head. "No, Kreacher, you have done more than enough already," he said warmly.

Kreacher's round eyes filled with tears and he nodded. Just before he could Dissapparate, however, Ron addressed him again with a look of deep concern on his face.

"Kreacher before you go and do… whatever it is you do, how are the other house elves?" He had sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees.

"Kreacher is pleased to report that although many of the house elves were injured in the battle, none were seriously hurt or killed," Kreacher replied smiling.

At these words, Harry glanced at Hermione to see her reaction to them. Harry was amused to see that she wasn't looking at Kreacher, but Ron. She seemed to be on the verge of throwing herself at him again. She caught Harry's eye and immediately looked away again, immensely embarrassed.

"That's great news, Kreacher!" Ron said sincerely.

"Kreacher thinks so too, Master Weasley." Kreacher's smile faded as he continued to speak, "Although Kreacher hears that Master Weasley's brother was not so lucky. Kreacher was very sorry to learn this, very sorry indeed."

Ron's face hardened and he nodded stiffly to the floor. Harry saw tears forming in his eyes and leant forward and gripped his shoulder supportively.

"Thank you, Kreacher," said Hermione in a small voice.

Kreacher nodded to Hermione in recognition of her words and Dissapparated with a load crack.

Harry sat back in his armchair and stared into the empty fireplace without really seeing it. Fred's death hadn't begun to register in his tired mind yet, neither had any of the others', including Voldemort's. He knew eventually the losses would hit him and he would have to deal with it, but right now he was more exhausted than he could ever remember being in his life. He doubted whether he would ever fully appreciate the magnitude of what had happened over the past few hours.

After a while, Harry looked back his two best friends sat in front on him. Hermione was finishing her sandwich and occasionally shooting Ron concerned looks. He didn't notice however, as he was studying his dirty trainers, his brow furrowed. Ron was probably never going to be the same again, but he doubted any of them would be. Harry could see the pain in Ron's eyes and knew he would never understand exactly how he was feeling right now. He couldn't help but feel guilty, even if Mr Weasley had found him an hour or so ago to tell him that neither he, nor any other Weasley, blamed him and that were just happy that he was alive.

Harry knew that the main reasons for him still being alive against all of the odds that were stacked against him were the two people sat in front of him. He had gone through all of this because he had to, where as they had voluntarily elected to follow him, without being asked to and, what's more, he knew they would do it again and again. This meant more to Harry than he thought he could ever put into words but he knew he had to try.

He sat up and cleared his throat. Straight away Ron and Hermione were pulled out of their own thoughts and looked up at him.

"There's something I want to say to the both of you."

"Harry, you don't-" began Hermione, but Harry raised his hand to stop her.

"Please just let me finish," he said calmly and she reluctantly closed her mouth again. "Now I know the past ten months have been, well, it's been bloody horrible, and I know I've not exactly made the previous six years much better for you. For that I'm sorry."

He paused. Hermione was regarding him with knowing look of resignation. She had obviously been expecting this sort of speech from him and was clearly desperate to interrupt it. Ron looked faintly amused.

"Hardly your fault, mate. You didn't exactly come up to us one day and say "I'm bored" and drag us off to some mental creature's home to start a fight," he joked. Harry couldn't help but smile a little bit.

"I know, but still-"

Hermione lost the internal battle she was having with herself and cut in. "Don't apologise for your friendship. Believe it or not, the positives have far outweighed the negatives," she said. Harry had expected this exact reaction from both of them, but it still meant the world to him. He felt a lump growing in the back of his throat as continued speaking.

"I never asked you to come with me on this stupid mission, but you did anyway, without a second thought as usual." Harry swallowed. He was fighting to keep his voice steady and was determined to finish what he had to say. This was the absolute minimum that they deserved. "There is no way in hell I could've done this without either of you. You've both saved my life so many times now that I think that I've lost count and I'm incredibly grateful for everything you've both done for me over the years. Thank you. It means more to me than you could ever realise."

Neither of them interrupted him when he stopped this time. The common room was eerily silent and for a few moments they sat there in the quiet. For most of the past year, the three of them had been completely separate from the rest of the world and most of the time it had been difficult to say the least. Now it felt glorious. They were more at peace now than they could have dreamt of then. Harry took a deep breath before he continued.

"Seven years ago I came to Hogwarts with nothing. Everyone thought they knew who I was but you two actually bothered to find out. I left Hogwarts with two best friends that I still don't think I deserve and enough memories to last a lifetime. I just wanted to say that I- well-"

Harry's voice was shaking but he needed to say the last few words. He had never said them to anybody before, not even Ginny, but they were the most important. He just couldn't seem to get them out.

He was saved from finishing by Hermione, who walked over to him and flung her arms around his neck. He hugged her back tightly, his face filled with her bushy brown hair. Harry strongly suspected that she had started crying, a suspicion confirmed when she eventually said in a thick voice, "I love you too, Harry."

He gave her a grateful squeeze and closed his eyes against the tears he had been desperately trying to fight for hours. Suddenly he remembered what had happened in the Room of Requirement before the battle and looked over Hermione's shoulder at Ron, who was still sat on the floor watching the two them. Their eyes met and Harry saw none of the jealousy or anger he had expected to see. Instead Ron looked a little bit uncomfortable.

"Yeah," Ron said gruffly, "what she said, mate."

They grinned awkwardly at each other. Harry heard Hermione sniff.

When Harry felt the moment for being emotional had passed and he too started feeling a little uncomfortable, he said, "Hermione, I appreciate this and everything, but your boyfriend seems the jealous type."

Hermione let go of Harry, looking stunned. She glanced at Ron, who was blinking more than strictly necessary. Both of them blushed and Hermione went and sat down in her own chair again. It had obviously just occurred to the two of them that they were now the owners of titles like 'boyfriend' and 'girlfriend'. Harry started laughing.

"That's another thing I wanted to say," Harry smiled, leaning back in his chair. "I'm really happy for you guys, honestly, but this whole thing would have been so much easier without the hormones, the drama, the _constant bickering_, the jealousy, the irrational behaviour-"

"Oi!" protested Ron. "It wasn't that bad!"

He looked to Hermione, who was equally scandalised, for support.

"No, it wasn't!" she agreed hotly. She sat back and crossed her legs. "Only one of us was jealous and irrational for a start," she added in an undertone.

Ron spun around, highly affronted. "What do you mean by that? When was I ever jealous?"

Harry and Hermione both raised their eyebrows at him in response.

"Well, all right," he grumbled, clearly spotting a losing battle. "I was never _irrational _though!"

Hermione snorted with laughter. "You? Irrational? Never! Snapping the arm off a figurine you spent fifteen sickles on is completely rational."

Harry was stunned. He had no idea how Hermione could possibly know the fate of Ron's Krum figurine and, judging by how mortified Ron looked, he guessed he was thinking the same thing.

Hermione smiled sweetly at him. "You should clear your trunk out more often and not leave it for me to do."

Ron's entire face was as red as the scarlet rug he was sat on. He goggled at Hermione, who had arched her eyebrows, waiting to see how Ron could come back from that. Feeling Hermione had gone a bit below the belt there, Harry decided to give Ron a helping hand.

"Whereas you, Hermione," Harry said quietly, "just go around confunding people."

Hermione glared at Harry, horrified that he had revealed her secret, while Ron frowned and tried to remember the incident that Harry had referred to.

"What? Who did you confund?" Ron asked Hermione.

Harry watched as Hermione bit her bottom lip and tried to work a way out of her predicament. Eventually, her eyes on the floor, she whispered, "McLaggen."

Ron started laughing and looked at Harry for confirmation. Harry nodded and Ron let out a great shout of mirth. "When?" he asked, sniggering, "Slughorn's party?"

Hermione sank lower into her chair as she shook her head and waited for Ron to work it out. She clearly wasn't going to be giving any hints or clues.

Furrowing his brow and running his left hand through his hair while he leant back on his right, Ron continued to think of other possibilities. Eventually Harry watched comprehension dawn on his best friend's face.

"No…" he said slowly. "You didn't…"

He scrambled onto his knees in front of Hermione so he could look her in the eye, a serious expression on his face. "The Quidditch trials," he finished simply.

All colour drained from Hermione's face as she launched into an explanation. "Ron, I am so sorry," she blurted out. "He was stood in front of where I was sitting and he was saying foul things about Ginny getting on the team just because she knew Harry and then he started saying even worse things about you. I knew you could get on the team on your own merits, I just- just wanted to make sure because I knew how much it meant to you."

When Hermione had finished stating her case, she looked pleadingly at Ron, who stared back at her stonily. Harry felt a twinge on foreboding in his stomach. Surely after all this time spent dancing around each other, they wouldn't break up over something so insignificant that had happened nearly two years previously. Harry froze as he remembered Ron's history with this sort of thing.

"I can't believe you, Hermione" Ron said in a low voice and shaking his head slightly. "You were supposed to be a _prefect…_"

Ron's face broke into a wide smile and Hermione started laughing shakily. Harry let out a sigh of relief and watched as Hermione playfully punched Ron in the chest, who then grabbed her arm and pulled her off the armchair and onto the rug. Shocked and dishevelled, Hermione glowered at him. Despite this, Ron leaned in and kissed her on the lips. When Ron pulled away, Harry fully expected Hermione to hit him again, but was surprised to see that instead she smiled and moved forward to kiss him again.

Harry let them have a moment, but after a few seconds, they both seemed to have forgotten his presence. It wasn't until Ron lifted his hand to Hermione's cheek and looked like he was about to start snogging her properly that Harry coughed loudly. Immediately they broke apart, looking embarrassed. Harry shook his head.

Ron put his arm awkwardly around Hermione's shoulders as she curled up on the rug and leant into his chest, both of them red in the face. Harry knew that being together wouldn't stop them being Ron and Hermione; he would still have to put up with the petty arguments and the unnerving pace they were able to go from not speaking to each other to being thick as thieves and then back again. That was just how their relationship worked and they both seemed to thrive off it. They were able to bring out the worst in the other one, but more frequently they brought out the best. If to do this it meant squabbling and baiting each other, then so be it.

Harry's thoughts started to drift towards Ginny, as they so often had over the past year. Their relationship had been so much more laid back. They both made the other one happy, simple as that. He knew he would be driven mad if it had been anything like Ron and Hermione. Being on the side lines had been infuriating sometimes; actually being a part of the world's longest game of cat and mouse would have been way too much for him.

"I don't know about you guys," yawned Ron, pulling Harry out of his reverie, "but I think it's getting a bit late."

"It's half ten in the morning," pointed out Hermione, who was subconsciously playing with a rip in Ron's robes.

Harry stood up slowly, his limbs aching. Now he had eaten, all he wanted to do was go to his old dormitory and pass out. Everything else - the clean-up, the grieving, the building of a new world - could wait until tomorrow.

"We have been up more than a day though," he said, stretching. "And in that time we've robbed a bank, flew a dragon, fallen into a lake, fought in a battle and ended a war."

The other two smiled sleepily at him and got to their feet. Harry started making his was towards the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories, with Ron walking beside him. They were almost at the door when he heard Hermione call out from behind him.

"Erm… Is it okay if- I mean, I don't want to be on my own tonight and-" she stuttered. Harry was instantly reminded of an almost forgotten memory that had happened in this very room many years ago. He smiled gently at her.

"Of course you can," he said as Ron reached out his hand to her.

She took Ron's hand and the pair of them grinned sheepishly at each other, still unused to being able to show their true feelings to one another.

"We can even pitch a tent," Ron joked as they started climbing the stairs. "It'll be just like old times…"

Laughing, Harry opened the door to the dormitory and was pleased to see it was as empty as the common room. The room seemed a lot bigger than he remembered seeing as only Neville and Seamus' possessions littered the floor and tables. Harry and Ron walked to their respective beds, removed their shoes and slumped onto them. Straight away, Harry thought he would fall asleep, but he noticed that Hermione was still stood in the middle of the room, looking around at the other beds. While they were empty at the minute, their owners were still down in the Great Hall and probably wouldn't be too pleased if they came up to get some well-earned rest and found someone else already there.

"Do you think they would mind?" fretted Hermione, looking from bed to bed.

Before Harry could begin to form an answer, Ron had already pulled back his covers and, his ears burning, patted the mattress next to him.

"I mean- only if you wanted to. It would save someone moving you later and-" he blurted out.

Hermione, pink patches rising in her cheeks, gave Ron a small smile and made her way over to his bed. As she got in Ron shuffled over to one side to give her room. They were lying on the very edge of their own sides, so that they weren't touching, both blushing furiously.

Smiling to himself, Harry took out the Elder wand from his mokeskin pouch, placed it on his bedside table and looked at it for a few moments before closing the hangings around his bed and getting under his duvet. As soon as his head hit the pillow, he realised he still had his glasses on but was already too asleep to remove them. In the distance he heard someone enter the room and exchange a few words with Ron and Hermione, but Harry couldn't make them out. Seconds later Harry Potter fell into a dream that, for the first time in his life, was guaranteed to be his own.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes. Every muscle in his body was aching. It was like when he woke up in the hospital wing after falling fifty feet from his Nimbus, but a lot worse. He blinked as a chink of daylight was coming in through a crack in his hangings and blinding him slightly. Squinting, he checked his watch and saw he had only been asleep for little over an hour. Wondering how on earth he hadn't slept for longer, he got up and blearily shuffled his way over to the jug of water on the windowsill.

Pouring himself a glass of water, Harry looked out of the window and saw the grounds below littered with rubble and debris. He could also make out a couple of his old professors, already starting to clear the mess up. The sight made his chest clench painfully so he turned around to observe the room instead.

First his eyes fell on Neville, who was snoring gently and sprawled out on his bed. The sword of Gryffindor was balanced on his bedside table, still covered in dirt and blood. Harry smiled. He always thought there was something special about Neville and he was pleased to realise that the rest of the wizarding world would now see this too.

Harry looked to his right and his smile became wider when he saw the occupants of the bed next to his own were fast asleep and no longer lying awkwardly parallel to each other. Hermione was resting her head on Ron's shoulder, her arm draped over his chest, while Ron had his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his head resting on top of hers. Both of their faces showed evidence of more tears that had long since dried up. Harry wondered if this transition had occurred while they were still awake or subconsciously in their sleep. It was then Harry noticed that on the table next to Ron was the ruined locket that not so long ago had been a horcrux. Too tired to think why Ron would want to retrieve the object that had mentally tortured him from Hermione's beaded bag, Harry leant back on the window sill and took a sip of water.

As he drank, Harry realised that he now had a future. For so long he had been focused on defeating Voldemort that he had never bothered to think about what would happen afterwards. To have had ambitions like that and then to lose them if they had lost the war would've been unbearable. Thousands of beautiful possibilities flooded his mind; he could grow up, get a job, buy a house, get married and have a family of his own… He found his eyes were slightly wet and wiped them on the back of his sleeve. He had never thought about these things before and now he could not only think about them, but achieve them. As he considered this he realised that he didn't really mind where he ended up; he just wanted Ginny to be there with him.

Ron snored suddenly and Harry pulled his thoughts away from Ginny. It was almost as if Ron had sensed what Harry had been thinking about and wanted to put a stop to it. Shaking this ridiculous idea from his head, Harry was reminded of the conversation he had had with Ron and Hermione just after Dumbledore's funeral. Once more he was surrounded by death and misery, but there was a glimmer of hope on the horizon. This time however, Harry thought, his spirits soaring, it wasn't a single golden day, but an entire lifetime that he had left to spend with Ron and Hermione.

* * *

_A/N 2: 1 year ago, during my Nth re-read of PS, I wondered what was said during the trio's first post-troll conversation._

_9 months ago these wonderings became a Word document after I had written about 20 of these moments in my head and I didn't want to forget them._

_4 months ago it was a 240 page Word document, that had a bigger word count than PS._

_1 month ago I finally plucked up the courage to publish it and waited for the internet to spit out my first attempt at fanfiction and tell me to stick to reading or, preferably, never darken its doors again._

_Instead people read this story and said nice things. And then more people read it and more people said nice things. Then it started getting added to people's favourites and by this point I was staring at my laptop in awe, unable to believe what I was reading._

_Now, 24 Ron moments, 24 Hermione moments and 1 Harry moment later, it's over._

_I'd like to thank **InkTearDrops, Wazlib88, Fanohermione, jac32oz, jayIVmom, Joanne Black rh, mkoala, moonliteshadow, MsAnnaGraham, not bitter just twisted, thesecondshelf, StephMcG, ozzel1, xxafterglowxx, WhiteCavalier, SmileXDanceLove, Poppy Anne Gibbons, Jessie Brooke, Justine, GingerPygmy99, spewmate, asyuraniel, Zalini, Romione-til-death, 15, TisforTatty, Restless5oul, Toby Cavanaugh Lover, sunlight1299, magicisintheair, A-LovesHP, muggleindenial28, HeyMissSarah, peacock33, iyamei, Kat0510, neuroticmess, mclaughin, DA4All, reneeogg, miuri, fallenintohistory, Just Some Human, LighintheDark33, watched 2 much tv, missjessiecakes, bootsm, MishhieLee, CottonLittleBunny, PJNHEN2, avini, Nikstar98, shocfix, RoseWeasley929, Natalie Bright, ChocolateCurls, lonksthewriter, Heldon16, Kamala76, TheMonkeyFuzz, way2domestic, NoxDawn24642, PJ XD, Readingiscool, Will2Meaning, You'reAnAngelSentToSave, Rynie2980, illegalpen, Leolina, JessicaLaurenWeasley, TheTwoDL, StarlitDreamer, adnixon, PerfectlyStrange, ober22, Obsessed With 52, bookworm299, Banana Montana, Hmm55, redheaded-raindrop, AutonomousAnonymous, milbrite, Natalie Bright, dopeyKMK, Padesoy, Romioneluver567, fihcan, lanesm, BleedingOnMyTypewriter, Tarsa, tonidepp16, DanielleElaine, Lisa the Scott** and** Moomoozee **__for reviewing, putting this story on alert and adding it to their favourites._

_I mean it, thank you so much to every single reviewer, alerter, favouriter and reader. As cheesy as it sounds you've given me the confidence to write all of the fanfics I've had planned in my head and that is the best gift that you can give to someone._

_That or a scented candle._

_Plus I've enjoyed talking about everything from Ron and Hermione to Starkid to Shakespeare to whether 'Bobbies' should be capitalised with you all. I mean it when I say you're all lovely. _

_Hopefully, this won't be my last big multi-chapter story and I hereby promise not to make the final A/Ns of any future stories this long and overly-emotional but like I said, this is my first ever story and is like a baby to me so lemme have my moment, yeah?_

_Finally, thank you to J.K Rowling for everything. Defining 'everything' would take years so I will leave it at that._

_Thanks for reading. It's been a blast :)_

_S'over. Go home._

_-HalfASlug_


End file.
